As anyone who's read this blog for more than a few days will be painfully aware, some of my fellow cubicle dwellers can't seem to adapt their noise levels to the more communal environment in which we now live.
But today has been my turn. Since shortly before lunch time, my on-board plumbing has alternated between moaning like the tortured soul of Jacob Marley's ghost and singing like a pod of whales. Loudly. It's been spouting off like a drunken redneck after that 10th round with José Cuervo.
I know they can hear it, because giggle puss over there was snorting herself silly a little while ago.
C'mon, say something about having to listen to my bodily functions, I thought. I just dare ya.
Ah, revenge is indeed sweet. Especially since this isn't happening during church, for once.
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11 comments:
Oh those uncontrollable stomach noises - my lifelong pals.
Who said anything about farting?
No... there was no farting. Just noises.
The foamy stuff is my medicine.
WV: "pbeei". The result of drinking too much water over on Emma's blog.
Foo...Ever think that this could be your body's way of releasing all the pent up frustration you've been holding in all these years about work, people, etc. Ever think THAT could be the problem and not that you're lactose intolerant? I'll have to pay attention to your colon AFTER you have some of that "medicine" and see if it helps squelch the frustrations.
You were using your angel powers to eavesdrop on this morning's meeting, weren't you.
Unfortunately, I can't take my medicine at work. I signed a piece of paper that says so.
You should try and time them for when it gets really quiet. Or sing to the tune of their gurgles. I could think of a million ways this could help you piss off coworkers. Good stuff... :)
Some of those uncontrollable stomach noises can get so loud that you might as well just let loose a bootie bubble.
It's taken a lot of diligent practice to perfect that. I'm the Bootie Bubble Babe.
Molly Hatchet had a beat? Back in the day, I had these bizarre dreams where Michael Jackson would come out and duet with Molly Hatchet on "Gator Country," or maybe Olivia Newton John would front Def Leppard on "Photograph."
Sure wish I could remember the '80s better.
Bret: You mean something like this?
Truly unnerving stuff. One of my old Fidonet acquaintances provided me the "Carry On My Wayward Son" track and the "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap" one as MP3s, a while back. I'd share them with you, but I recently deleted them from my hard drive.
Ain't that how it always happens?
It's so annoying when your body decides to hold a concerto on it's own - and worse when your colleagues can't be courteous enough to be understanding.
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