Yeah, this list could easily be 100 Things I Don’t Understand, or 10,000, or even some higher number. I don’t understand plenty. But I also don’t feel like gobbling a handful of trucker speed, feeding an industrial roll of paper into a manual typewriter, and attempting some kind of crazed manifesto. So, I’ll just limit it to the five items that popped into my head yesterday, while driving to work. OK? OK.
Let’s get started, shall we?
People who take a shit within 30 minutes of arriving at work
As some of you know, I haven’t taken a dump at work – ever. Not once, in my entire life. I’ve trained myself well, and my body knows it’s not even an option. There are two windows of opportunity: in the morning before my shower, and after I get home from the job. Everything else is a blackout (brownout?) period, without exception.
But I understand that others haven’t reached my higher plane of existence, and give them a break. I’m not overly judgmental about the work shitters, and even sorta understand how some folks think they’re getting over on The Man by having a couple of sit-downs on company time every day. Who am I to deny a person their right to political expression?
However, the people who show up for work and immediately climb atop the porcelain baffle me. They were home a few short minutes ago! Are they really so rectally bereft they just walk through life with turds falling out of them, all willy-nilly? What are they, mountain goats?
Here’s how it’s supposed to work in the morning: get up, shuffle to the bathroom as if you’re being propelled by fart power, pee, have some coffee, shit, take a shower. It’s a method that’s stood the test of time. I’m sure George Washington subscribed to it, as well as Dave Concepcion.
How a person could find themselves ten minutes into the workday, needing to take a dump… Well, it’s beyond the pale. I simply don’t understand.
Air hockey pucks in earlobes
“I want to be different, like all my friends!” is an inclination that likely dates back to mankind’s earliest teenagers. Since the dawn of time, I’m certain young people have gone to great lengths to make themselves stand out in a crowd (like their friends), then sneer with glee, “What the fuck are you looking at?!” when their goal is accomplished and someone takes notice.
Thus, I probably sound like one of those old stick-up-the-butt Southern preachers who warned, during the 1950s, that Elvis and his swiveling hips were surely the sign of the apocalypse. But I sincerely don’t understand why someone would want to embed air hockey pucks in their earlobes.
Crazy clothes, and ridiculous hair? OK. Retarded slang and a dipshit attitude? Check. These are all temporary situations, easily adjusted once a person is forced to move out of their parents’ basement, and earn more than $6.50 per hour. But when you start permanently altering your body, in a fit of righteous rebellion, there’s no easy way back.
Tattoos used to bug me, too. But they’re so prevalent now, I really only notice the tasteless white trash varieties. You know, the ones on necks and hands, and the kind that features a poorly-rendered Looney Tunes character flipping the middle finger? That sort of thing.
But radical piercings and various bric-a-brac insinuated into the skin still confuse me. It reminds me of tribesmen I used to see in National Geographic magazine, with a salad plate in their bottom lip, or a whole shitload of rings around their hyper-extended neck.
It all seems unnecessary to me, like a severe overreaction to the same crap every 17 year old has dealt with, since they’ve been making 17 year olds. What’s wrong with just a snarky t-shirt, and a shitty personality? Is that not real enough? One thing’s for sure: it wouldn’t leave you with two dangling loops of Play-Doh on the side of your head, when you’re 38 and saddled with child support payments.
Too much information
At a previous job I was sitting at my desk one day, when a young woman walked up to me and said, “Jeff, do you mind if I go out to my car real fast? I need to get some tampons.”
I blinked three or four times, and said, “Yes, you can go to your car, and to tell you the truth… I didn’t really need to know the reason.” And she chuckled and said, “Oh, sorry! Too much information?”
Yes, it was. A bit too much. I’m not uptight about such things, not really. I just don’t think it serves any real purpose for a 20 year old girl to tell her Dad-aged boss that she’s on her period, and her vagina needs some urgent tending-to.
I also come from an era when masturbation was something that was never admitted. Never. A person could have walked into any high school in 1980, pressed a gun to some random boy’s head, and yelled, “Tell everyone you beat off!” And the kid would’ve looked around, swallowed nervously, and said, “Will somebody let my parents know I love them?” Then he would have closed his eyes and waited for the bullet.
But all that’s changed now. You hear guys talking about it all the time, with not even an ounce of embarrassment. “I was spanking it furiously last night, in the bedding department at Kohl’s…” WHAT??
And there are lots of people who insist on telling anyone who will listen about their medical procedures, and spectacular injuries.
This is usually so well-rehearsed, they can crank off the stats in an effortless, sing-songy manner. “I have twelve pins, a steel plate, and two hinges. There’s enough metal in my left leg to build a ten-speed bike. I had a full blood transfusion, 74 stitches inside, and 126 out. The doctor said I would’ve died instantly if I’d been standing just three inches to my left…” All this is said in a very casual, but calculated way. And when they’re finished there’s always ample space provided for astonished reaction.
On the other end of the spectrum… I don’t tell anyone anything. Not at work, anyway. And I don’t understand people who do.
Light blue underwear is always the baggiest
This one’s a real mystery.
About ten or twelve years ago I found myself in the midst of an underwear crisis. All my life I’d just worn the standard-issue Spongebob-style tighty-whities. They served their purpose, and it wasn’t something I spent much time thinking about. Hey, if it ain’t broke (or horribly skidded-up), don’t fix it.
However, things changed along the way, and those kinds of skivvies were out of fashion, and only worn by old men, truck drivers, and Latin and/or gay porn stars. I don’t know how I knew all this, but somehow I did.
So, I had to adapt to the times. I’d tried boxers for a very uncomfortable six months, a few years earlier, and knew that wasn’t the answer. By the end of each day I’d have a scrotum the length of a tube sock, and that’s no way to live. It’s a wonder my nuts didn’t get wedged underneath the brake pedal of my car.
I dabbled with the colored version of the tighties, but it felt ridiculous. Almost like Underoos. The only thing missing was the Transformers logo across my ass.
Then I figured it out: boxer briefs. Ahhh… I could finally exhale. The crisis was officially over, and I never looked back.
However, the light blue ones are always the baggiest and least reliable. Does anyone know why this might be? It’s all the same material, right? Why would the color make a difference? It does, though. They fully collapse after just two or three washings, and become as big as a pillowcase. When I’m rifling through my drawer, I instinctively pass over the light blue ones now. Because they almost require suspenders, or an underwear belt.
If anyone can help solve this mystery for me, I’d be much obliged.
Broccoli is always the hottest vegetable
I consider this to be a sister-subject to the item above. Broccoli is the light blue underwear of the vegetable world. It behaves differently.
Just a few days ago I was eating a crazy soup with all sorts of chunky ingredients involved. There was broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, onions, chicken, and some other stuff I can’t remember. It was all poured into (and around) a bread bowl. And, even after everything else cooled down, the broccoli was still scalding hot.
This is the case with Chinese food, too. Everything’s a perfect eating-temperature, until you get to the broccoli. Then the roof of your mouth is destroyed, and you’re left with great sheets of skin hanging down, like a drive-through car wash of pain.
Why is this so? Things can’t cool at different tempos. Ya know? It’s a cruel trick, and throws your world into disarray. I need answers, people!
And I hope you’ve enjoyed my five random things. If you have something to add to this ridiculousness, please use the comments link below. Whether it’s a reaction to something I wrote, or your own “simply don’t understand” entry… Please tell us all about it.
Have a great day, my friends!
I’ll be back soon.
Now playing in the bunker
Treat yourself at Amazon: US and Canada
Mmmmm. Chinese food. Sounds like dinner tonight.
No comments yet? Am I alone in this world?
I am woman, hear me roar, especially when I am in some shopping area which always provokes the innards to do it’s initial digestive outbreak. No, for some unknown reason under things I simply don’t understand, why could I not have a bathroom break right after hot java hits my intestinal system and right before I leave the house? Or why can’t the 3 cosmos the night before flush me out first thing in the morning? It takes the adrenaline rush of being in a store with temptations of buying & spending that urges me to go right then and there. Go figure. No wonder store items sky rocket in price when their restrooms have to accommodate toilet tissue from so many of us in need of the paper products we use so often there! Geez.
That arrival dump was fucking highlarious. I for one, am guilty as charged…and I own the business! To make matters worse, my employees point and ridicule me as I make my hurried, clenched shuffle to the shitter. I usually can’t make it more than a minute in the door. The bastards have even taken to asking me “urgent” questions on my way to my righteous release. I tell ’em to get a birth certificate ready, and pick out a name. Fuckers.
I would suspect the broccoli may have a higher water content than the other ingredients.
Light blue is also definitely different and I believe it is because of the dye. The only color shirts that I own that always seem to get some sort of off color spot or imperfection in the finish are and always have been shades of light blue. Can think of 2 of them right now.
I will now die.
You’re such a fucking know-it-all. Higher water content. Sheesh.
You are one of MY 5 random things I do not understand.
I doubt it is the “high water content”. My guess is the density of the material that makes up the plant is higher than say beans. The higher density material hold on to heat longer. Steel is more dense than Aluminum. Heat them both to a specific temp. and the steel will hold the heat longer..
How that JoeT
I am on board with that, except for taking Jeff’s observations into account.
I believe carrots and cauliflower are indeed a little more dense than broccoli, and chicken about the same. According to Jeff’s observations, though, the broccoli is exhibiting some anomalous behavior. I was merely postulating another reason without giving it too much effort.
Perhaps Joe T would care to opine? (the chucker!)
Crapping at work = being PAID to shit. I will intentionally hold it in until I’m at work. For the pittance I’m paid, I had better be allowed to pollute a restroom once a day. Twice, if I have a greasy lunch.
Same. Nothing better than squeezing one out on the company dime.
I crap at work because the toilet seat is usually warm
Did George Carlin co-write this update? Great stuff! Five more next week, please.
Agreed sir! Good stuff K. I want 6-10 on my iPhone next week. Thanks for the laughs.
I go weeks without taking a dump at work but then one morning the cramps will hit me five minutes after tossing my lunch bag in the office fridge.
Is a tattoo on the forehead a way of saying you never plan on holding a job that requires you to fill out a W-4?
We have a guy at work that is always trying to show everyone the enourmous booger he just dug out. Some day when I do take a dump at work I’m bringing in a swatch of toilet paper to show him my shit.
Tried the boxer briefs a year ago and had to toss them out. I hate feeling like I have bike shorts on under my trousers.
I don’t eat cooked broccoli so I have no information on their ability to absorb and maintain heat.
I simply don’t understand the croaky voices of young women these days. It’s like they’re caught halfway into a course of ‘man to lady’ hormones and are unable to speak without a shitton of vocal fry to remind them of where their voicebox is.
Also, some of the stuff you said, but with the saggy nuts. I don’t get THAT at all.
Nice work Jeff, I actually sprayed a little coffee into my lap this time for the “nuts under the brake” comment. Great update and one that could go on forever!
Agreed…I think I might have busted something laughing so hard!
Uh, withOUT. Yowza.
I can’t find the typo you’re correcting for the life of me.
I think she meant to say, “withOUT the saggy nuts.”
Weird medical shit?…Once…I was just sitting there and my goddamn head fell off. It landed with a bounce and I ended up staring at the bottom of a talbe full of used gum in a Chinese restaurant. I soon realized it was a chemical reaction between the MSG and the LSD I had recently ingested.
Broccoli is Latin for ‘hot mouth’. I thought you knew that.
I wanna know why everyone takes so long at the ATM? And I know that some of you are guilty because almost EVERYBODY stands there for five goddamn minutes. What are yall doin up there? What the fuck are yall doin? Card, pin, cash. Over.
Is every whore on Earth required to have a small dog? That isn’t to say that every woman that has a small dog is a whore, but it IS to say that every whore I’ve met of late has a small dog under her arm.
I’d rather see toenails cut short and painted slutty red than see that “French” bullshit that all of the women have been doing for years now. The French thing makes it look like you have long toenails! Gross!
A agree on the shitting right after work starts thing (I’m also not a public shitter) but what about those people that dump on the way out of a fucking restaurant or book store? Goddamn!
The ATM one makes me a crazy person, I’m drilling death stare laser holes through some old lady’s head while she’s taking out a 2nd F’n mortgage on her home. Beep, beep, beep, boop, boop, beep, boopbeep, beep. WTF! ther’s no function that requires that many buttons
I am in complete agreement about the ATM. It never ceases to amaze me how many people act like they are using it for the first time ever. Last week, I stood behind some asshole that had an entire conversation with someone standing beside her while trying to get money from the ATM. Since she talked with her hands, she couldn’t do both. I was so pissed off, I could feel my head splitting open. And she KNEW I was waiting for the machine. Finish you’re fucking conversation after you get your big 5 bucks you fucking buck tooth pig. So rude and obnoxious.
“fucking buck tooth pig” is beautifully lyrical. Definitely working that into a conversation tomorow. In fact, I’m going to a pig roast so it will even be whimisical to add the pig reference.
I just don’t know yet which fugly bitch will receive this wrath!
You know, I was just at the drive-up teller just the other day, and the lady in the lane next to me hollers into the speaker, “Can I have a deposit ticket…I don’t know my account number, can I use something else?”
Good GOD! Did somebody have to get you dressed this morning?!? What a moron!
I always have to take a dump at the end of dinner if I am on a date. The last thing i want is to get to their house and have to use THEIR bathroom to release my inner demons.
“Are they really so rectally bereft they just walk through life with turds falling out of them, all willy-nilly? What are they, mountain goats?”- this line KILLED ME
Jeff, your update about your boxers was too much information.
“By the end of each day I’d have a scrotum the length of a tube sock” So basically you’re not complaining of the content, just the venue? LOL Great update JK!
…”Some tampons”…knowing you I’m surprised you didn’t say…”Sure you don’t need a tourniquet?”
I have a key to the executive restroom. I rather enjoy taking a dump there.
I see/hear the following all the time:
1. People who throw garbage out of their car windows.
2. People who burn furniture in the street.
3. The terrible rap/electronic music that everyone seems to blast from their cars day and night.
I’ve never taken an Executive Shit. I have however shit into a Wal-Mart bag when the next truck stop or rest area was a good 70 miles away. Kinda the same thing come to think of it.
(…that’s too much information ain’t it?)
Classic update. Coffee almost came through my nose.
Happy Friday, Surfers!
I used to enjoy taking a dump at work and hearing my co-workers protest about the funk. You see the men’s room was also apart of the locker room.
And I would let it go with a bang. I would not try to hide my farts. People would be hollering, how about a courtesy flush?
Some even got mad. It was good times. I no longer enjoy blowing ass, to upset others.
The sheets at Kohl’s are so smooth.
I will shit almost anywhere. I call that being an American. I do have certain restrictions but they are very loosely enforced.
hear, hear
That a good idea for a T-Shirt:
I’m an American – I shit anywhere.
Speaking of dropping the kids off at the pool, I don’t understand dudes not flushing the commode.
Outstanding update!
One thing that I can’t wrap my head around – why school buses can’t make a right on red. Especially when they don’t even have any kids in them yet. I was behind one the other morning. No traffic within a friggin’ 30 mile radius, and Mr. Concerned had to sit there waiting for the light to turn green. Does this really save lives? What a goddamn waste of time.
To me…light bule underwear is the ‘faggiest’. Realy??…Pastel underwear? Damn man…That’s pretty much a two point citation on your Man Card. Throw those fucking things away! Dark Blue, black, burgundy or white. That is IT! No other colors. I suppose pasley boxers are ok but I’m a tighty whitey guy. Boxers scrunch up under my jeans and make my thighs look like I’m smuggling nightcrawlers.
I’ve never seen the faggy light blue underwear that everyone is talking about. Boxer briefs for me and they are all white, black, or gray. That’s the only three colors I’ve ever seen. Plus, if you wear a thin white skirt, you would be able to see those blue underwear right through it.
Underwear has gotta be black and has gotta be Tommy or Ralph Lauren. I haven’t left a prove-able skid mark in years.
I think the one food that stays hotter than broccoli is definitely potatoes. You wanna talk about something that makes your food taste luck rubber for about a week after the burn.
And let’s not forget the molten disaster known as freshly grilled/boiled corn on the cob. Jesus tap dancing christ… that shit is like trying to eat a curling iron.
If this is what we can expect from two updates a week I’m all in! Fantastic stuff Jeff! Completely agree on the light blue boxer briefs.
Awww crap…you too?
Easy man, you buy the multi pack and the fuckers hide the light blue ones inside. And then you have to decide whether to do laundry or wear the light blue ones, well you set your homophobia aside for a few days.
You know you’re getting old when you sit on your own nuts whenever it’s warm out. Ouch!
Killer update which is sparking some funny-ass comments too! I also would like you to continue onto “Thing’s I simply don’t understand” #6-10!
Here’s a daily occurance that really grinds my gears… If I don’t leave my house every morning at the right time, I get stuck behind this f’n school bus that stops at every single driveway in it’s path. Also, I get held up behing a PAT bus going through the South Side that stops at EVERY block!! Is there a specific reason for this ridiculous process? Why can’t these lazy, punk-ass kids and public transportation users walk to ONE designated spot and board the bus?? Are people THAT lazy? They have been cutting PAT routes left and right from neighborhoods that truly need it. Yet, the bus will stop 6 times within a 1/4 mile. Just ridiculousness.
I can’t stand the separate bus stops, either but what really makes me want to kick a cripple is seeing the kids getting DRIVEN to the bottom of their driveways. I’m talking maybe 30 feet TOPS – that’s being generous.
This happens to me EVVVERRRYY morning. It’s always some old man, Sunday driving on a backroad, waving to imaginary figures on the side of the road, putting along in his Buick, going 30 on a backroad when I’m trying to get to work in the morning. The road is so full of hills I can’t pass him. When I finally do get the chance, I get stuck behind a slew of Mexicans, piled into an S10, pulling a trailer of yard care equipment. You’d think the road would be empty at 9am being a back country road, but noooo.
I don’t understand the school bus stop thing either, back when I was in school we walked to the bus stop down the hill and we all got picked up there. Nowadays these buses make 50,000 stops. Lazy ass kids, and we wonder why they are all fat.
Two blocks to my bus stop.
I had a pretty long subway ride to school. The school bus picked up at the subway stop and went the last few blocks.
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I will never understand why a woman would cheat on her husband to hook up with a 5 foot tall mexican maintenance man who squats in houses empty houses. I guess that would be on my list of top 5 things I don’t understand. My number 1 would be why anyone would like that ‘call me maybe’ song. My number 1 changes often.
They’ve got that goddamn song on a continuous loop on one of the radio stations here. I don’t know where the station itself is located, and that’s good, because I want to burn it to the ground.
Another thing I can’t understand… the courtesy counter in my supermarket that ALSO sells scratch offs and lotto tckets and some fucking goober has to stroll up like they’re in Vegas demanding different sets of Pick 3’s and 4’s.. Here I am standing there waiting to get a lousy raincheck for paper towels and some nimrod with a $2 winner is making me wait. Fuckers. I probably bought their goddamn groceries on my taxes, too.
I actually have a baggy pair of light blue underwear. They are my ‘laundry day’ undies. They were my sexy fat boy shorts when I was the jet puffed marshmellow man, but I lost the weight so now they are my woman boxers.
On the topic of shit:
I used to be an at-home shitter only. Then I got my gallbladder removed. It took my body a while to regulate my bile flow, so sometimes my liver would just dump way too much into my system. Translation: sudden and urgent need to shit.
It rarely happens any more, but I got used to having to take a dump at the most inopportune time/place. So now I just go with it.
Something I don’t understand though…if you’re going to take a shit in a public bathroom, please don’t grunt. It’s bad enough having to smell it and hear the plopping. I don’t need to hear you punishing your sphincter too. That’s just taking it too far.
How about spending years getting a teaching degree only to blow it by banging a student who’s just gonna brag to his friends about it?
I was just sorting through my inbox earlier and realized I hadn’t heard anything new in awhile, which I recall mentioning to you on twitter. Always a pleasure, I might disagree with one and have others. I’ll check back more often. Again, always a pleasure and I’ll spread the good word.
Nice work, Jeff! This was a superior update.
Boxer briefs FTW; I have never owned blue undies, so I could not comment on the bagginess thereof.
A thing I simply don’t understand: why anyone would drive a truck by preference as personal tranportation. I’m talking about those who drive an F350 dualie to go to their office and to get groceries, without even a part-time need for a truck. I don’t much care for the way these things drive, and I don’t understand the appeal.
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While I currently don’t crap at work, at a previous job I spent a lot of time in the bathroom. It was at the end of a long hallway to the back of the building, and the job was so hectic at times it was a nice way to escape.
I don’t know how I got away with this, but I read at least three books in their entirety in there: Moving Mars, Virus of the Mind, and Darwin’s Dangerous Idea. And I am not a very fast reader!
And air hockey puck earlobes seems to be a guy thing. I don’t understand how a dorky to begin with dude decides he could be a babe magnet with a little styling advice from National Geographic. So when the guy is 50 with shoulder length lobes…what?… a Corelle dinner platter shoved in there? However I do seem to be attracted to chicks with purple and chartreuse hair, some tats and a fishing hook in their eyebrow.
For some strange reason, I too am a fan of the accessorized eyebrow.
I almost fell off the toilet I was laughing so hard at this update (while trying to take a dump so I don’t have to at work)
Here’s one I hope makes the list: soggy bacon at restaurants. Can someone please explain what is so difficult about making fully cooked bacon? Even when you ask them to make it reeeeeealy crispy, they still won’t do it. Wtf? Anyone?
The back wall of my office is right next to the men’s restroom on my floor, so yes, I hear a tremendous orchestra of ass instruments on a daily basis.
To much information, “-By the end of each day I’d have a scrotum the length of a tube sock, and that’s no way to live. It’s a wonder my nuts didn’t get wedged underneath the brake pedal of my car.”
My Dad was a Navy guy and had/has a tattoo. Left arm between shoulder and elbow. Image of a sailor carrying his discharge papers and under it says…”Never Again”. He was on Guam when he got it…he thinks…19 and getting to head home to pick up where he left off with Mom.
As we all know…it’s Fathers Day. I have no youngns. But Harriette (aka Poop-Doggie-Dog) and Jane The Cat got me a card. I don’t understand where they got the money.
Their meth lab? I’d keep an eye on those two…
Thanks for the tip. At first I thought they might be peddeling their pet meds to the local strays. I know their pot crop doesn’t mature tii the middle of September so I will have to watch when they trot off together.
Something that I don’t understand (true story)
I wore boxers ONCE in my life. Must have had a rash or something when I was in high school (honest, I don’t remember!), someone suggested wearing boxers. Borrowed a pair of my dads (yick right?) and really hated that ‘freeballing’ feeling.
When I got undressed at the end of the day – the boxers were in SHREDS. I have no idea what happened, but to this day I’ve never worn boxers again.
Tried boxer briefs, and no likey either. I stick with briefs – colored ones at least, and no light blue ones!
I wore boxers once, maybe twice just to see I guess. At the end of the day I was in pain like I’d been kincked in the nuts. I must need the support from tighty whities. I do have some ‘sports breifs’ (thigh length Michale Jordon things) but never wear them…still scrunch. Don’t like them..
Happy Father’s Day Jeff.
Thanks for the laughs, bud.
BTW, regarding undies: I buy the bulk pack at Costco. Within a pack, they are all the same color, which is as it should be.
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Who can crap on a foreign toilet? And if it’s a stinky one and your co-workers get a whiff? No end to the shit you’re gonna have to take then.