Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Happy Cinco de Mayo

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

If you are latina and reading this, please flash me in honor of your lovely country's independence. You know what, if you are reading this (I don't care what race/sex/age you are) go ahead and flash me, you'll get the same response.

In honor of such a magical day, I will reprint the beloved Jeremy in full Cinco de Mayo regalia at the bottom of this page.

I haiku it up
words come in your ear-pussies
wear a flak jacket


So today I was in the locker room, doing as all men do after a killer glute workout, flexing naked in the mirror (if your man says he doesn't, he is flexing for another man. Just so you know), and Foxy Lady was playing in my ipod, and that got me to thinking of one of the more humorous manager meetings with Greyskull. I may have told this story already, but I'm to retarded to do research.

Anyway, we had a series of luncheons (forced but we were told they were priveleges) to learn....um...I dunno, something. Fellow techs will remember them as Greyskull, the head of HR and other management boobs gave a series of presentations on complete and utter bullshit. It was retarded, it was a waste of time, it was pure magic for Flanders and Santa.

Anyway, on this magical day, Greyskull was giving a presentation on some convoluted issue that made little to no sense to any of us victims, and she was going over customer perceptions of how we act, I think. She was reading some gay report, and was saying "... so this was totally rad, it was all like foxy-" and I, hoping to break the chains of oppressive boredom, chimed in with "Instead of "Foxy", I like to be called Stevester." To a few giggles and a look of death from Santa's good eye for daring to interrupt his leader/ lover. Greyskull scowled at me but finished her retard presentation, and we all left. I get downstairs and had barely enough time to grunt through my first response to a question from Flanders when I hear those magical words: "Stevester can you come into my office?"

I mosey on in, trying to think of what I had done to warrant such a meeting. Was she tired of me grunting my answers to her questions? Had I finally hurt Flanders' feelings by not talking? Did she find out about the craps games I was engaged in in the elevator?

I was completely stunned and had no witty retort when she informed me that today's meeting featured the letter "R", the number "3", and that my comments during the lunch meeting were wholly inappropriate. WTF?!

I was trying to think back to what I could have said but nothing came to my super smart brane. Greyskull, seeing the smoke coming out of my ears trying to figure out what the hell she was talking about and informed me "Your little comment about "I like to be called Stevester" when I said 'foxy' was inappropriate and offended a bunch of people in that room". Again I say respectfully....What. The. FuuUUuuUUuuck.

I sat there, completely dumbfounded. What are we, 3rd graders? Who the hell would be offend- oh wait, I know, Flanders. You see, any time anything even remotely turned to talk of the completely natural act of sex, Flanders would hurriedly leave the conversation. I erroneously assumed that meant he loved making sweet love to hairy men and the thought of coupling with a woman in the most romantic way possible during a given commercial break made him mad nautious. Turns out he is actually married, so I guess my gaydar does not work so well, but I am getting off track. Greyskull continued:

"Also your comment during the sexual harrassment in the workplace luncheon about 'Are women allowed to sit before the men get their plates?" was completely uncalled for, inappropriate and rude." I can't remember if that is verbatim what I said, feel free to correct me.

Now, let's be honest. If someone making a reference to themselves as being "Foxy" offends you, you are:

A) Gay
B) Retarded
3) A fucking asshole
~) A gay retarded asshole, or Benson Hunter for short.

I mean, seriously. If I had said something like "I like to be called Stevester, bitch" then stood up and stuck my tongue down the throat of whomever was sitting closest to me while gently fingering their asshole through their jeans, maybe that might be inappropriate. Totally hot, maybe a little awkward because I seem to remember Will and Max sitting by me, but a tad inappropriate nevertheless. And the fact that the director of HR thought my little quip was funny should have been a little more solid indicator of whether or not my completely 'G' rated joke was inappropriate or not. 

Anyway, enjoy your Cinco de Mayo, and celebrate it: go to a Home Depot and hug someone. Or go to a Chinese restaurant, find a cook and hug them. They are, as far as I can tell, all from Mexico as well. I do not want to be racist, during black history month you should hug a wino or call in sick an hour after you were supposed to be at work...I insult all races equally.


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