Hearbawl

So, these gay men i Saudi Arabia are aprehended by the local police for being *GASP* gay!!
Link to article in The Guardian
OK, so a public flogging might not be the ideal way to come out of the closet, but being whipped by strumming young lads in tight police uniforms. There's only one word to describe this: D-R-E-W-L

Talk about free bonus.

There is well hung, hung well, just well and just hung.
This one is definitely the last category.

http://www.flurl.com/item/De_Perfecte_Penis_u_106153/

I hope I never get to see this one Live.

I'm sitting on my arse reading Harry Potter while drinking hot chocolate and munching crackers with cheese. And getting paid, well!

At the same time I'm humming to myself rejoicing in the fact that the most stupid woman ever to work here, has quit.
Not bad.
Not bad at all, actually.

We have a real bitch/hag sitting in the reception.
She's just a middle aged woman in her second marriage, who is constantly in a bad mood. She doesn't like her job very much, because it is quite boring I guess..
She has hissy fits on such a regular basis that I can't write about it her, cause it would be a 24/7 job.

Yesterday she was attending an out of house meeting. So they hired a girl from some bureau to fill in. Even though the meeting was only until lunch, the girl was here for the day.
She was nice and did an excellent job. The funny part is that our bitch/hag also notices this and comment something like "That girl is so good she should be doing that job instead of me!" Bitch/hag has a rather shrill voice that can cut through arctic ice, so everybody heard it. And it got dead silent instantly!
-You could have heard a cotton swab drop into a couch in the building across the street.

Then everybody noticed and there was a sudden rush of couching, shuffling papers and stirring in cups.

It was just one of those moments. I enjoyed it.

While standing under the Eiffel Tower, this was overheard:
"Now we've done the Eiffel Tower! Now the Tour d'Eiffel??? Now where could that be?"
This was said in an accent thick as mud.

After some grumbling he walks over to a police officer standing three paces away.
"'s'cuse me, where's the Tour d'Eiffel?"
He receives a silent bemused stare..
"Tour d'Eiffel?" Our friend repeats slightly louder.
"You are zere! Eet eez here" the officer replies slowly.
Indignant, he exclaims "Well you French guys always hafta give the same thing two names to confuse, don'tcha?"

Now, I understand totally that everybody can't know everything. And there's probably tons of stuff that this guy could teach me.
But, if you are gonna wear your ignorance like a banner over your head, could you please do it back in Texas? You people should not go abroad where civilized people could get the idea that you are average Americans. We have learned to tolerate you just like you can love a limp dog, cause it can still fetch the papers and slippers. But we don't take it to dog shows..

So, Texans should under no circumstance be allowed to carry a passport or become president, It's just to embarrassing.

Do I ever complaint about anything but my co-workers?
Anyway, my boss has told me that lending out our stuff to people at work, can lead to stuff disappearing. So even though we want to be nice, we should keep a close track of what people take home, so it gets returned. But as a general rule we try to avoid lending out stuff we want to keep intact.

There is a senior manager in one of the other departments that approached me about some hardware he needed for his home over the weekend. Now this guy is not one of the nicest or most helpful guys you'll meet. I've had people working under him that has come up to me for no other reason than to explain to me that he's a horrible man.

I was pretty sure that a Nice Techie that actually knows how to behave himself had borrowed the stuff some time ago, and probably still had it at home. I didn't want to tell this to the Horrible Man, because I knew he would go straight to the Nice Techie and demand to get it. Knowing his attitude he might even choose to throw in a lecture about how company property should not be kept outside the office.. So I said it wasn't where it was supposed to be, but I'd have a look around and give it to him when I found it.

I checked with Nice Techie, and he had it at his place. He even apologized even though I had promised him he could keep it until further notice, we have only used the damn thing twice since we bought it years ago anyway. So he would try to bring it back the next day.

Unfortunately, he forgot it the next day, and during lunch Horrible Man come over and told me that I'd promised him to tell him where the hardware was, and then I'd neglected to fulfill my promise. I ate while he spoke, and when he finally shut up, I clarified that I promised to tell him when I had them. As I didn't have them yet, I hadn't contacted him. To which he kindly replied with questioning what kind of shop I ran, that didn't have track of our own equipment?! I had two choices: either continue eating for half a minute while counting calmly to 10., or jump up and push him hard in the chest while barking "How dare YOU question MY professionalism???" - I chose the first, even though the second would have been so much more satisfying.

So I told him that I know perfectly well where the hardware was, And I'd get it to him as soon as possible, as promised. "If you know where it is, like you claim. Why cant you give it to me right away?"
Aaaghh, I despise rude people!!
-So I told him. Nice Techie have used it for work outside the house (slightly untrue), and will bring it back tomorrow. In good time before the weekend.

Like I knew, this wasn't good enough for our pompous Horrible Man, so he chased down Nice Techie who was spending his lunch outside with his wife and newborn daughter.
The next day Nice Techie brought the hardware directly to Horrible Man, and that was the end of it.

Or so I thought..

Two days later I went by my boss' office, and he told me that Horrible Man had come by to complain about my attitude!
After all, HE was one of the leaders here at this company, and MY job after all was to offer service... My boss urged me repeatedly to ignore this, and his impression of me was the opposite of what the Horrible Man had described. The only way of getting back at people like the Horrible Man is to do exactly like they ask, but not offering anything else. It seems like a good idea, so from now on I'll answer his questions, but not give him professional advice that I normally would give normal people.
-So if he asks me how to turn on the projector in the conference room, I'll tell him to push that big round button labeled "Power". Not mentioning anything about cables or full screen options etc. Not that the conference room is my responsibility anyway, but I'm too nice aren't I?

Oh, and guess what? It's now gone more than two weeks, and he still hasn't bothered to return the stuff.

The bearded wizard that used to work here is such a tease.
There was some stuff lying around after he quit, that we had to send after him. The department head (formerly referred to as hamster brain) decided to order delivery service, but I said I'd handle it.
So I hooked up and we agreed that I could come by his apartment to deliver it myself. It was a great plan since that would give an excuse to leave the office for an hour.

He made it clear that he wouldn't be home when I got there, but his man would. His man is a former drummer in a very successful New York punk band, so he has that big New York accent, and is a really relaxed kind of person. And as any drummer, he has buns of steel, buttocks to die for, or simply put: a very well defined and bouncy butt. I joked with Wizard about making sure that Mr. DrumButt would be wearing some tight fitting velour or velvet when I arrived, since I'm a bit into that.
-And got the quick reply that since he planned to stay in all day he hadn't bothered to dress properly, but would probably slip into some black nylons when he heard the door bell.

So I did what any self respecting man would do, I spent an extra 20 minutes in front of the mirror, and used a liberal amount of aftershave. I even bothered to put on some special underwear that has drawn some complements earlier.

So I got one of the company cars, threw all the stuff in and started driving. I sent a text message to Wizard asking for the phone number so I could call Mr. DrumButt if I got lost along the way. And got the reply that I could use Wizards number, cause he would be home anyway..

Oh well, that's not all bad. So I arrive, and ring the bell to get in. But instead of letting me in, wizard comes out. And he's in pink velvet from top to bottom. Now, there is sweet and there's sweet. But this was beyond that, he looked as sweet as a 5-foot-7 pink candyfloss. I just wanted to eat him.

But we were outside in the biting December cold, and neighbors kept stopping for a chat. I never got invited in, I never got to find out what Mr. DrumButt was wearing, but I was invited to attend a concert with DrumButts new funk band next friday. So after a short hugh, I shuddered back into the car and drove back. I doubt that I'll go to the concert, as drummers never look good on stage.

But to end on a happy note I'll just know that the last mental snapshot I got of my former colleague is him standing there looking like my very own magical candy floss...

There is a man here at work that has been hit by midlife crisis. Hard.
He has a bright and shiny bald patch, an expencive Harley bike that he keeps adding more expencive shiny parts on, he has started excercising, he has some shiny gold teeth and a horrible dog breath. I have briefly mentioned him earlier as Gollum.

In the cubicle next to his we have hired a temp. She is a very cute girl who wears her bouncy curls in a  bun, and her perky breasts in a very low cut top, behind expencive looking underwear. And poor old Gollum just cant keep his eyes for himself, or the drool of his sweater... Whenever she's going to take a photocopy, he'll follow to show her how the copymachine work, even though it's just a matter of hitting the green button. -Like on every other copier on the planet!! And he'll make sure she goes with him to lunch, so he can sit and talk about himself for half an hour without being interupted by work related tasks.

And she enjoys the attention it seems like. It can be very stressfull to start working in a new place, so I guess having one of the veterans hanging around you all the time can help alot. But come on!

He should stop fooling himself into thinking he has a chance in a million with that foxy brunette, and she should realize she doesn't have to undress. The management will think she does a good job if she manages to attend all her meetings and deliver her papers on time.

Since our company moved into the office/warehouse complex we now reside in, three women has gotten pregnant.
That's fair enough, I have sex (although not to often), so should they.
But, the really bad thing is that ALL THREE of them had a spontaneous abortion within the last weeks of their pregnancy.
I've thought about this earlier, loosing a child like that must be horrible. Sure, loosing a child is horrible no matter what, but I can only half imagine what kind of mental torture this must be to the mother.

But, what kind of freak coincidence make this happen? Is there something about this house? It used to be an old metal factory, I seriously doubt that we're talking about the ghost of some misfortunate metal worker. But what about toxic residue? They used a lot of asbestos in old iron melting furnaces. And I guess some acids were used too.

I dont know what can have caused this. but no matter what it is, it's horrible. And one thing is for sure: If I ever get a sex change operation I will get away from here before trying to get pregnant...

NewGirl has been my pet peeve for quite some time now. I've told you about her rant about her phone bill. I haven't had time to tell about her outrage when she discovered that only one third of the employees at the company got invitation to a check-up at the company health service. She found it intolerable that two thirds of the company were snubbed of this privilege. She seemed like she wanted to start a riot or at least a protest march with banners, waving flags and some catchy slogans over the megaphone. She demanded that everybody got to go, NOW! Cause that's the law! She simply ignored requests by bothered co-workers to show the paragraph or law text that stated this. She finally slowed down when (after several attempts) somebody managed to explain to her that the doctors office only called in one group at a time, but during the course of one year, everybody got to go.

There are several other stories to tell, like the time she insisted that all the light fixtures be changed, cause she's allergic to certain types of light, but that's to late now. She was still in her trial period, when she sat down in a meeting with her boss and made some demands that our company simply had no interest in complying to. So she upped and left.

First she collected all her co-workers into a secret meeting where she explained how horrible everything was here, then she went to her doctor and got a sick leave for the rest of the trial period (thus managing to still get paid).
It must be said that her boss is/was the HamsterBrain that is still loosing one brain cell a day, and I'm still amazed by the fact that she manages to arrive at work with a matching pair of shoes.

The first time I wrote about NewGirl it was to tell about an incident with StudBoy, who's the young, sporty, two-day-old-beard wearing, but oh! so married hunk in HamsterBrains department. I remember being quite shocked by such hormone based behavior from a man with wife and and a child.
It seems that my unique position in the company has left me as some kind of confidant, because at least once a week somebody comes over to tell me something about themselves, outline an intrigue or simply badmouth somebody else.
Well, today StudBoy gave his tale.. He and the Mrs split up yesterday. According to him the mental part of it happened three years ago, but they decided to live together because of their one year old child. Last night however enough was enough. Not even their now four year old child or the upcoming holiday could change the decision.

So today he's just roaming around in the building with vacant eyes like a zombie without the splatter effects. Like he phrased it himself: This would be a good thing, but because there's a child involved, it's a tragedy.

And finally: The receptionist who hate everybody has had a meeting with the staff director, and she came out of that meeting steaming! Cursing and promising that she will have no problem finding a new job, being only 60 years old! Most of us is crossing our fingers and hoping.

Some Of My Best Friends Are American

I liked it, I think you'll like it to.
Even though the film makers manage to exclaim a few views on Americas Foreign Policy, it's all about being allowed to marry who you want.


The prime quote is:
"God has a cure for America  -It's called obesity"

Doctor Doogie is gay!

I dont care, I really dont care who he sleeps with, but newspapers all over the world almost tripped over themselves competing to be the first to post the headline "Doctor Doogie is gay!"
E online covers the entire story about misinformed publicists and all. But they are a horrible celeb-show in the first place! What shocks me is when "normal" newspapers prioritize this piece of prime journalism for their front page.
During the time it took to make the article and print it, another three-digit number of people died of hunger in the world. That's something to think about the next time you wont tip a waiter because he was "to gay".

Check this out:

"Hey! I know that you travel a lot by taxicab in your work" person A says while folding out a paper note with an address on it. "How much do you think it would cost in taxi fare to go to this address?"..
Person B looks at the note briefly before answering "Last time I drove by there, the oil lamp was on. *giggle* *giggle*.."

This could easily have been an exchange from the upcoming Borat Movie, but alas no.
It's me trying to ask the head of information office a really simple question. I dont dare to think what would have happened if I asked her a question where she actually had to use her head. Maybe her brain would have short circuited and become a thermonuclear device, halfway through a terminal meltdown.

People tend to leave the room when she tries to give a professional opinion on anything.
She was in an accident some time ago, and my guess is that emergency staff left a tube somewhere in her head causing one IQ to dribble out every day. Since the leak of intelligence has passed below the average hamster by now, I just wish there was some way of speeding up the process. So the senior management could take notice and get her out of here and on welfare ASAP (or make her run for office at The White House).

I spent yesterday doing a seminar on fire security. This was done externally, and the other participants were from all kinds of companies. The seminar was rather pricey, so the participants were all grownups working in companies with stable economy and serious management. It was educational and boring, as expected.

Lucky me, I got a seat next to the hillbilly that would smoke half a cigarette during each break. And I hate the smell of those half smoked cigarettes. But the seminar went along nicely, the hillbilly participated rarely, but stayed awake and smelly. Then came the last break, and he return a little late, smelling sweet!
I might not be the biggest party animal I know, but that was cannabis, and there's no doubt about it!

So I slowly lean forward to read his name tag, and he's head of security at the headquarters of the goverment party.
I generally don't like politicians (actually I think they're vultures), but I sure hope he ain't stoned if there ever is an emergency at their office.

Our office's own NewGirl has been here for some months now, but still makes a racket over things she don't understand on regular basis.

The other day she received her phone bill.
We get a free cell phone where the employees only have to pay for the personal phone calls we make. The actual phone, monthly fees and other expenses are paid by the employer. This is a very sweet deal, the only downside is that we have to sit down monthly with our detailed phone bills to calculate how big part of it we have to pay ourselves. In my case I now pay one fifth of what I used to pay for having a cell phone. And the time I spend reading through my phone bill is done within normal working hours anyway, sa technically I get paid to get cheaper cell phone..

Since the phone and service deal technically is the employers property, the phone bill is sent to work. Accounts department checks the bill against registered users and drops it in your inbox. You then do your thing and return it. They deduct the amount you've called privately for from your paycheck, an everyone is usually happy.

But, when NewGirl sees her detailed phone bill in her inbox she freaks out. She find this to be an intrusion into her private life, and gets really agitated. The fact that other people can see her phone habits is a Big Brother mentality she find unconstitutional! She goes on to call it a scandal, and have by now raised her voice so much that people sitting nearby has to abandon getting any work done before her fit ends.

How high up your own ass is it possible to tuck your own head? It's the employers phone, and the employer can do what it bloody well pleases with it. If you do private calls that you dont want anybody to find out about, USE YOUR OWN BLOODY PHONE!

I know the weirdest people, I know. But there is a couple that's strange even by my standards.
They are a heterosexual married couple with offspring, they even have a house with a fence around the garden, fruit trees, and a small hammock on the patio.
The odd thing is that they're both fetishists, but with non-compatible fetishes. She's into BDSM and S-M, mostly as a submissive/bottom. He can enjoy some of the costumes used in her circles, like latex, rubber etc. But it's not a necessity, and he definitely don't like pain or humiliation. So he cannot be the dominant/top her fetish requires.

He on the other hand has a body/oral fixation where he is into petting and basically any sex, except the type that includes his penis entering a vagina. In theory it can be described like he prefers all kind of sex gay people enjoy, but with women. So oral/anal or anything else is fine, and he enjoys using his mouth anywhere with the same enthusiasm that teenage boys enjoys schoolgirls in the shower.

A misconception about fetishism is that it's a cool and trendy spice in the sex life of extravagant hedonists. The facts are a little sadder. A true fetishist will have limited pleasure of sex that don't include their fetish. For instance will a real shoe fetishist have as much fun humping a naked *insert famous Hollywood hottie here* as he would have getting a hand job by Jar Jar Binks. Many young fetishists despair as their fetishism develop, clinging to the dream of being normal. I mean, how many stories haven't we heard about gay men in straight marriages, many lasting their entire life, raising kids and staying firmly in the closet.

The couple have probably had their set-backs before they met. Like, Try giving a girl the multi orgasm oral sex of her life, then explaining her that screwing her would be as interesting as wanking in an old boot (some people might find even that sexy). Or a girl taking home a boy and telling him that he can get some AFTER he's hit her and made her crawl around on the floor for an hour first.

So the beautiful thing happened, they met, hit it of, and after some months; hit the sack, and made the earth move (so I've been told). For the first time in their life they met someone that could give them excellent normal sex! I have no problem understanding the relief they must have felt. For once they are not a freak, and since the other person is struggling with a similar thing, they suddenly have someone that understands their emotional hardship.

They cant fulfill each others fetishes, well I guess anal sex is the closest they would get. Since she might find it painful, and he would get his, but at the same time they'd both know that the other wanted more. The good thing is that they don't need to fulfill each others fetishes, since their normal missionary style sex is satisfying. But both parts know that the other has stronger urges as well, and respects it since it's mutual. So they've probably spent a lot of time talking, and agreed on some ground rules.
They agree that sex is not something you spend, you don't run out of sex if you use to much. In fact a good night of spanking/humiliation leaves the wife so horny she's practically begging for sex. They've therefore decided that their normal sex is so good that they wont share it with anybody, but the fetish part can be pursued as well, outside the marriage.

This means that she's joined a club where she can enjoy herself, and come home with a few bruises and a big smile. And he can chat up other girls, of course he is still facing the problems from earlier days, trying to explain to strangers that "I really want to share a hotel room with you, but things will get odd once the foreplay is over, OK?" But I guess his frustration wont be total, since he knows that he has a loving wife back home.

When they explained their strange, but oh so cute situation to me, I sort of visualized his fetish sex like the guitar solo in a rock concert where the drums and bass stops playing, to let the melodic beauty of the guitar shine. Then her fetish sex is the mother of all drum solos isn't it. And together they're a great band with their noisy child on the vocals. Oh, how we laughed.

Some time ago at work, one of the more attractive girls here had to wrap up some papers.
This in itself is innocent enough, but she was wearing looong black leather high heeled boots, a tight short skirt and something with a quite relieving cleavage. She was kneeling on the floor, struggling with a piece of string, while moaning, grunting and breathing heavy. She was taking up space so I actually had to stride over her in order to get past.
And I just realize: I know people that pay for this!!!
I'm not sure if I know any men that would pay to have a subordinate dress and behave like this at their feet, but I'm sure they exist. But I definitely know females that pay to be in her place. And she got it for free, actually she got paid for it!!! She just dont know how lucky she is.

And that's the credo for us here in the western civilization:
WE DONT APPRECIATE HOW LUCKY WE ARE!
So think about it children. The next time you bitch about something, maybe it's not that bad if you just get the right perspective!
There are perverts out there who would do anything to be allowed to touch your excrement, there are people who die dreaming of the opportunity to eat the piece of steak you find too well done, there are nerds who drool over the inner making of the processor you find too slow in your laptop and there's children crying for not having legs to run after the bus you just missed.

OK, I just got a little carried away there. Anyway, to all you horny guys who weren't there: To bad.

The same Molasses-head that needed a map of pakistan so bloody instant some time ago, sent me an email this morning.
She now need a visa for one of the participants at the same travel. She needed it done by noon today, of course.
The best part is I have to argue with her for several minutes before she finally understand that I cannot pay with her personal credit card!
When she finally agrees to let me pay cash, according to the statement on the visa form, she brings me the form an hour later, incomplete.
It's quite simple, the form is filled with required information followed by frames in which to put this info, like
First Name

Last Name
How much simpler can it get? If there is an empty frame somewhere, you have obviously forgot to give some piece of required information..
Still she manages to give me the form with half the info missing. Even though I'm not as high'n'mighty as herself, I know enough about entry visas to foreign countries to see that this application would definitely be refused. I inform her of this, and receive a telling-off that I feel was totally undeserved. She sharply points out that she shouldn't have to do this, since it's someone else's application. While I agree that ideally the traveler should be able to write these kind of information himself, it's absolutely not my job, and to direct your negative energy toward me; that's just retarded..

On page two of the form, right under the part where you state who you are visiting, there's a text written in bold types starting IMPORTANT NOTICE. This states that you must always enclose a letter of invitation from the person or institution you plan to visit. A quite common request when applying for visa, actually.
Take a wild guess, du you think they had bothered to enclose any such letter?

So ended up having to spin a tale based on what I thought I might have overheard in the corridors while passing by. So the clerk at the consular desk of the Pakistani embassy finally agreed to accept the form, but could not guarantee that the consular worker would process the visa request with this information missing..

Well, I've done my part, I've informed Lazy Miss Molasses, about the clerks observation, and I'll probably snigger when I give her back the application with REFUSED stamped in big red letter across it.