Potty Brain

Just so you know, there are many times when I am not proud of myself. This report is of such an instance.

This guy John Fogerty, an ex-marine came up to my desk just a few minutes ago, giving me the thumbs up for my valuable insight during the recent meeting in the conference room about our 401(k) plan.

And in the drawing stacks, someone mentioned it as well.

Jesus Jimenez, the guy who greets me as Danielsan in Crane told me he wanted to move seats far away from me during the meeting.

I am in dire need of media coaching and tourrets meds.

I walked into the conference room, among the last to enter and greeted everyone, including the HR department by saying, “Good morning everyone, go fuck yourselves.” And I became disturbed when I realized that I wasn’t kidding.

Someone who manages our 401(k) plan came in today to teach all of us, in groups of 20 about the benefits of the new plan. As always, with 401(k) talk, the person freaks you out about saving, how you'd better do it now or as the woman today said, “you could be working as a Wal-Mart greeter until the day you die. There you go, a tired little old lady in your blue apron saying hello to everyone and then you keel over. That’s not how I want to spend my last days, so you bet I’m going to be putting away a good chunk of change.”

She asked lots of leading questions.

Does anybody know what a triple venti caramel macchiato is? Sounds expensive doesn't it? Remember when coffee was cheap and simple?

Does anyone here know how much a gallon of gas cost 25 years ago? What about a movie ticket?

How about a house? How much do you think all of these things are going to cost 25 years from now?

If you didn't have to work, what would you rather do? Anyone?

That's what they call retirement, and you have to ask yourself, what will I need?

She attempted a poor analogy, asking the group why you would go to the gym and pointed at me.

Why do you go to the Gym?

I heard a voice in my head loud and clear and it wanted to say a few things, but I tried very hard to breathe through it, so I could chalk up a perfect work appropriate reply, and the best I could muster was a very tentative response with long pauses between each word, and a huge question mark hanging in the air. Something like

Bee

cause

it

makes

me feel...

good?

She kept looking at me, digging with her eyes, and in retrospect, I see clearly now that she wanted me to say something like, “because I paid a lot of money for it, and you bet all the ice up Santa's Ass that I’m going to get my money’s worth.”

I wanted to end there, but she kept on looking at me, and slowly, expectantly nodding, stabbing me with her gaze, just lifting the words out of my mouth, and I kept talking and I said,


whennn


I


don’t...


kill people?

The words that came out were the result of an internal struggle between an angel and Dennis Hopper. The Dennis Hopper voice had a lot of f words ready to go, something about turning the office into a homo sapien slaughterhouse, while the angel voice that would like for me to keep my job begged for silence. This was a decent compromise I suppose.

It's hardly worth noting, and definitely not the worst thing I could have said, but it could be a harbinger of my Undeveloped Evil Twin's eventual coming out party, from decades of gestation inside of my gall bladder. I worry that I am on the fast track to becoming the man in this video, and that so far, so luckily, youth, although withering, is still on my side, and there is enough charm in the reserve tank to enchant my way out of my own creative expletives. But one day, I will be this man. I hope I can learn from this.

If you click on the video, you should know that he has a potty mouth strikingly similar to mine. Some of you may find it offensive. If you are at work, wear headphones.

The Video.