The Mind of Spaz

The gods have struck me down, given me a blow to which I have reeled and I’m not sure a full recovery is possible.

You see, I have a new inspector from the health unit.  She’s working under new regulation that requires her to inspect each and every one of our small water systems, at length, with me there as she’s grilling me with inane questions. And yes, she’s offensive to ALL the senses.  She is:

• Incredibly ugly and fat, offending my eyes
• Disgustingly greasy and clammy, offending my right hand (when we shake hands you pervs)
• Her broken English is screechy and never ending, making me want to poke out my eardrums with ice pics

But that’s not the worst.  You see, she’s a close talker.  And if you edge away for personal space, she edges closer to you.  I swear, we ended up halfway to Toronto that way in the space of a two hour meeting.

Your probably saying “But Spaz! You only mentioned sight, sound and touch! There are two other senses!”.  You’re right, there are two other senses.

You see, her greasy appearance is most likely due to her unwillingness to bathe.  Apparently for her the 10 minute daily routine of stepping into a shower, lathering up with an $0.80 bar of soap and rinsing off is too complicated.  No, instead she pours on gallons and gallons of horribly cheap perfume, probably right on her nasty gooey snatch.

The taste part comes in with the smell.  Have you ever smelled something so bad you can taste it? That’s her.

Today, both my boss and I were with her, and she was EXTRA offensive.  My eyes turned red, I couldn’t control my coughing, and I was on the verge of puking. All this coming from a guy who thinks poop is funny.

So him and I have devised a plan.  Next time we have to see her, we’re going to load up on roughage: Cabbage, broccoli, curried foods, beans and the like. We’re going to do that two hours before we see her, and stand at either side of her.

And let off the SBD’s in turn.

That’ll teach her for being stinky.

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Back in the day a men’s washroom was where men

pee’d, poo’d, farted and boasted about all the women they didn’t actually screw.  This is the sanctuary for men to do all the things we’re not allowed to do in front of the women folk, because it’s a men’s room.

A men’s room as in no women allowed. You women have your own room to insert your tampons and quiff and poot or whatever it is you do.

So imagine my surprise, as I’m at the urinal with my dick in my hands, when a woman come into OUR room.

And yes, I did say dick in my HANDS.  I have the opposite problem of moooooog.  It’s a nice problem to have.

But back to the topic at hand.

Ha! Topic at HAND.

You see what I did there?

Anyways.

There are WOMEN in the mens room and I got my cock out.  It’s not like I can stuff it back in my pants because I’m peeing at the time.

You CANNOT stop midstream.  That’s impossible.  Well you can, but it feels like a billion bee’s poking at your bladder, just about ready to sting you to death.

So naturally, I FREAK! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING IN HERE! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM NOW!

Actually, my reaction was more along the lines of ‘ummmm?’.

Yea, I’m such a hard ass.

I mean, if she was hot I might have risked the sexual harresment charge.  Hey, she was invading man territory, and that sends a clear signal.

Just as clear as a woman wearing a push up bra and a low cut top.  When she gets pissed at you looking down her cleavage, what she’s really saying is “I’ll meet you behind the bleachers later.  Bring a condom”.

But she did not look hot at all.  She was UGLY.  She looked like mooogs therapist.  Mooog has a picture of his therapist, so you can understand what I’m talking about.

Thank you mooog, your graphics make it easy.

So I say “ummm?”

She screams and leaves.

Apparently, the building manager was hosting a walk through so cleaning people could bid on the contract.  Apparently this woman thought the men’s room was empty, despite the building being full of over caffinated engineering types.

Silly, silly girl.

If there’s a moral to this story, I guess it’s this:

Always carry a domer in your wallet just in case the english as a second language cleaning lady walks in on you draining the main vein and she’s actually hot.

And carry a stun gun in case she looks like moooogs therapist and still wants some.

‘Nuff said.

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