Archive for the ‘Don't be that guy’ Category

I wasn’t sure if this really qualified for the “Dont be that guy” category, but I make the rules around here, so deal with it. 90% of my day-to-day is spent on the phone, so I come in contact with a lot of terribly aggravating people and have compiled a list of things that, essentially, just piss me off (shocking, I know).

“Woops, Hang on”: If you’re going to ask me for information, be prepared to take that damn information. There are fewer interactions more aggravating than when somebody will ask you, for example, “what’s your callback number?” Then as soon as you begin to say it they interject with, “woops, hang on, I need to grab a pen.” What the fuck do you mean ‘woops’? What in the shit did you just ask me for if you weren’t ready to write it down? What the hell did you expect would happen next, the god damn number would fall out of the phone and onto the paper? You moron, how about the next time you pull some bullshit like that, I’ll wait until you get a pen, then I’ll say my number very quietly to force you to ask me to speak up a few times before I just fart into the phone and hang up. Deal?

Unprepared callback: On a related note, it’s not uncommon for any of us to call somebody for information and have them call us back after they found it. The part of this process that makes me want to take cover in a bell tower is the scenario where nothing gets accomplished but multiple calls are made, let me explain. If I call you for something and you need to call me back once you’ve found it, call me crazy, but I expect you to have it ready. After you’ve found whatever you needed (let’s say an address) and you call me back, it’s normal for me to ask, “What is that address?” If you answer, “Hang on, I have it right here somewhere” I’m going to scream into the receiver before repeatedly smashing my phone off of the desk until it breaks, then I’ll call you back from my cell phone to reiterate what a fucktard you are. What the hell happened from the time you got the address and called me back? What shiny object caught your eye causing you to lose all train of thought? Idiot.

Hlisgnlsbhgdsy: Doesn’t make sense, does it? Well neither does your voice when you call me while you’re fucking eating! Save your lunch for the noon hour, and spare me the awful noises that come sloshing from your jowls after my phone rings. I don’t know what’s worse, listening to you gargle on a mouthful of chicken wings, slurp on your drink, or the fact that I can picture you’re gluttonous ass sitting at your desk with sauce all over your cheeks while you stuff your ugly face. I’ve decided that, from now on, if you insist on calling me with a mouthful of food, I’m going to call you while I’m in the bathroom taking a piss – it echoes pretty good in there. Finish your food before picking up the phone, you disgusting pig.

Stop copying me!: We are not in a romantic comedy movie and we’re not married, so stop finishing my god damn sentences. Want to make sure we have the same info? Read me what you have, or let me read to you what I have. Don’t wait for me to get halfway through then finish the rest, because besides being completely annoying and terribly vain, it really makes me want to hang up, call you back and hang up repeatedly for the next 7 hours. Either that or repeat every word you say, like a 5-year-old would. That would be pretty fucking annoying, wouldn’t it?

Call me right back: If you call me and I just miss it, then call you back seconds later and you don’t answer – I am driving to your house, taking your phone and throwing into the street then running it over with my car repeatedly. What the hell did you do from the time you’ve brought the phone from your ear and placed it back into your pocket? If you just called me, you must be available to answer which only leaves me, by deductive reasoning, with one conclusion: You are an ass bag.

K-I-L-L  M-E: I’m not sure how common this is for everybody else, but it happens to me every day and it’s the reason why I’ll die a terribly angry person. If your grasp on the English language isn’t the best, have somebody else make your phone calls for you because my patience for incoherent, broken, spelled-out sentences is non-existent. Spelling out street and business names is bad enough, but it’s even worse if I can’t even tell which one we’re talking about. A word of advice: if you need to spell out more than one word in a paragraph to make it understandable, you might need a green card and the latest version of Rosetta Stone. Just send me a fucking email, because it’s likely that I’m only seconds away from crumpling some paper near the phone and pretending the call was lost.

Cave man: If, when I pick up the phone, it sounds like you are sitting in the middle of a Cathedral while typing on the computer, receiving a fax, talking to a co-worker, and finishing your lunch – chances are you have me on speaker phone. In case you haven’t figured it out by now, we can’t hear a god damn thing you’re saying. I rip out clumps of my own hair when one of these speaker phone shit heads yells from the other side of the room, “You’ll need to speak up, I can’t hear you.” No, you need to put in the excruciating effort to lift the phone from the hook and place it next to your stupid face so I can make sure you hear what I’m about to say: If you are going to be too lazy to pick up the damn phone, then I’m going to lose all motivation to be of any worth to the conversation. Any question you ask is going to be answered with a random color, bodily function, or some combination of both. For example: (on speaker phone) “Hi Nick, were you able to take care of that for me?” I’ll reply, “Sneezing yellow fart” and hang up. The respect is mutual, dickhead.

I’m sure there plenty more situations that have you yelling insults into your phone, or elaborations on these, so let me hear them!

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Especially when I’m trying to take a piss. Listen, I know I’m handsome, but that doesn’t mean I want to carry on a conversation with you or even entertain the jestful idea of playing swords (yes, I’ve been there). There are generally a few rules of urinal etiquette every man knows but many don’t follow. I had a short list of my own, but I was certain there were a few out there I couldn’t remember so I reached out to a few friends on this one.

First of all, if there are a few open spaces between me and the wall, don’t be an idiot – go by the damn wall. Besides being completely unnecessary to stand right next to somebody when there are plenty of open spots, it’s just fucking weird. Also – any time I saddle up to the porcelain bin of filth the last thing I’m thinking about is having a conversation with you about the waitress at table 6. If you’re looking to talk to somebody write your phone number on the wall like everybody else.

Usually that guy who wants to practically hold your hand is also the same guy that strolls in next to you wearing a giant, over sized coat or is, himself, over sized. As if it’s not awkward enough peeing 5 inches away from this heffer, I’m worried for his life as I listen to him struggling to breath. His myriad of chins are severely impacting the ability to get air into his lungs and if I have to catch this bastard while my fly is down I’m going to go berserk. I’m not concerned about the score of the game or the weather and even if I was, I sure as hell don’t want to discuss it while I’m holding my schlong. If you want to talk to me about something, we can talk about how I’m about to piss on your shoes if you don’t shut up – which brings me to my next point.

I love wearing sandals, who doesn’t? They’re light, comfortable and cool – unless you have to enter a public bathroom wearing them – then they’re terrifying. You’re almost better off enduring a bladder infection than risking the shower of piss you’re guaranteed to run into. Have you ever heard the phrase, “Don’t piss on my shoe and tell me it’s raining”? How about, just “Don’t piss on my shoe”. You’d think some of these guys had a super soaker hooked up to their pelvis the way they fight the splashback. Peeing with that kind of force is a danger to my feet as well as your pants so try going more than once a week and you’ll avoid the problem all together. There is no way anybody deserves to have their foot pissed on by some dumb ass who wants to prove how NOT gay he is by stand directly next to you. 

Speaking of gay, I’ve run into a few guys over the years who get entirely too much enjoyment out of taking a wizz. Every action they complete results in an audible release of exultation. The “oooh-ing”, and “aaahhh-ing” through the duration of their time in the bathroom should be punishable by the force-feeding of a urinal cake. It should come as no surprise that the same guy who can’t keep his mouth shut is also the same guy who can’t keep his eyes in front of him. Some establishments have even placed advertisements above each station to assist these perverted creeps in keeping their eyes off your junk and straight ahead, but there are some people who just can’t be helped.

After you’ve been thoroughly disgusted and accosted it’s time to get the hell out of there. It is at this point where you’ll likely run into one of the most repulsive types of people in the urinal etiquette arena. I’m still shocked every time I turn around to wash my hands and watch as the other guy zips up and walks right out the door, bypassing the sink as well as any respect he may have won back after moaning in my ear and pissing on my foot. They’ll all tell you, “I’m keeping my immune system strong!”. No, you moron – you’re a lazy, revolting scumbag who doesn’t have the patience that even a 4 year old would display. If you have to piss, go piss. Shut up, leave me alone and, for the love of god, wash your hands. If you don’t plan on washing your hands let me know right away and I’ll aim at your face – because it’s essentially the same thing.

Not a bad idea....

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My most recent night out was an observational humor masterpiece. My eyes were wide in an attempt to take in the calamity. My ears were ringing from the casino-like buzz of mumbled conversation and boisterous tirades. It seems that in any crowd of inebriated fools there are always a handful that scream for attention even if they don’t know it. I can’t say with 100% certainty that I have not, at one point, fit one of these roles. What I can say is that I have been watching, and for years I have been compiling a mental list of the deplorable  behavior.

“The barbaric douche bag”: This is probably one of the more common drunk types out there, but it’s worth pointing out. This asshole is usually found with a beer soaked shirt (because liquor is for sissys) and plenty of enemies. On a good night you can find these guys in groups with, obviously, no women in sight. They’re generally yelling at and punching each other taking turns showing off bruises from their latest man-romp. If you’re unsure as to whether or not you’re dealing with one of these jerkoffs – wait until he goes to the bar and ‘accidentally’ bump into him. If he immediately threatens you with homophobic banter – this is your guy. You can try to get ahead of him in the bar line by sending your girlfriend but it won’t matter – these guys usually prefer stubble and adams apples anyway.

“Crouching tiger hidden tough guy”: I know what you’re thinking – “the barbarian douche bag” is the same thing. I am sorry to say, but you couldn’t be more wrong. The barbarian might fight if provoked but he is concerned about more important things – like anal beads. This weekend warrior is the kind of guy that goes from 0 – MMA wannabe in about 3 beers. He is usually looking for a fight for almost any reason imaginable and is totally prepared because he just watched ‘UFC Fight Night’ hours prior to heading out. This annoying asshole is tough to spot so you may need to wait it out. After everybody has settled in to the bar it is not uncommon to notice a scurry of people. After the dust has settled you will most likely find this beer balls ninja laid out on the floor after receiving a thorough ass beating.

“The wailing annoyance”: Generally female, she can be found bawling about something irrelevant or otherwise completely her own fault. Whether it be an argument she started, or a guy she mercilessly clings to that tossed her aside – she will be there – sniffling, stuttering and smearing the mascara on her face leaving her resembling Alice Cooper. Another trademark of this bumbling bitch is the almost guaranteed nature of misplacing a personal belonging. I recently witnessed one of these trifling tramps cry for over an hour about her lost wallet only to later find it underneath her seat. This is where, in some instances, the pestering becomes aggravated and she turns into the “Generic Accuser”. This is where the assailant ostracizes herself by accusing anybody and everybody of stealing her cell phone, lip gloss, or whatever worthless, bedazzled piece of shit she had managed to lose.

“The dance floor rapist”: This person is gender neutral, carefree and un-embarrassable in their attempts to completely violate you wherever you stand. Not to mention the fact that they, in no way, limit themselves to the dance floor. Standing by the bar waiting for a drink? Look out for the pelvic thrust. Talking to a friend? Keep your head on a swivel for the unannounced face squeeze. You can try to avoid her/him but it is unlikely to matter as you WILL be found, hugged, and spilled on. Directing this person towards the ‘wailing annoyance’ usually results in a healthy bought of laughter. The dance floor rapist in this instance is usually a woman, but there is a male version in this awkward alliance.

“Just let me sneak by”: You know this guy, squeezing his way through the crowd taking the most difficult route solely to cop as many feels as humanly possible. It happens so fast you don’t even know what hit you. A soft ‘excuse me’ followed by a violation of your personal space. This guy is often seen in such classics as the overzealous side-boob hug, the stumble and grope and the ‘scuse me ass grab. Most often this person is also the “hidden tough guy” so look for him to be knocked out cold after swiping a free feel from one of  “barbaric’s” frat brothers.

Phone call phantom”: You don’t even need to go out to run into this late-night hot mess. This person is identified by the fact that he/she is completely unidentifiable. This phone conversation is typically short lived; consisting of you saying things like “what?” or “hello?” while the dumb ass on the other end is screaming inaudibly as the noise from (Insert hot new annoying band name here)’s latest track is blaring in the background. They’ll tell you the next day it was done on accident or they were ‘so drunk they couldn’t remember’, but it is blatantly obvious this person  has severe daddy issues and just yearns for somebody else to notice what a good time they had.

“The pretentious pisser”: Corners, plants, sinks, walls, DJ tables… it doesn’t matter – this guy will piss anywhere and be damn proud of it. If you watch closely enough you can see it coming. He will get quiet and fade away from the conversation and if you’re lucky you will hear it before you feel it hit your ankles. There he is, letting loose, swaying back n forth and probably looking over his shoulder for approval. Unfortunately for him nobody gives a shit and it is almost always his one way ticket to a bouncer ass beating and a free toss into the street.

“The wanderer”: I couldn’t think of a better way to drift out of my post by describing that person that seems to always end up drifting away from the crowd. Most groups have this person, we’ll call her “Kristin” in this case for no reason at all. At some point you’ll hear one of your friends say, “Where the hell is Kristin?”. If it happens often (which it usually does) nobody gets too worried because that son of a bitch always seems to turn up somewhere, sometimes even beating you home. It is not uncommon to find her mingling with another group or even partaking in celebratory birthday shots with people you have never met. On some occasions the wanderer turns out to be the “passer outer” in which case he/she didn’t wander anywhere but to sleep. This inevitably leads to tampering with said person which is always downright hilarious.

Everybody knows these people, and if there is one on here that you can’t seem to figure out who it sounds like… it’s you.

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Tuesday night my wife and I went to the Marquette/Louisville basketball game to watch our Alma mater lay the wood to the Cardinals 69-48.  The game was well in hand for our Golden Eagles most of the time so I had the opportunity to observe my surroundings and really take in the public spectacle that is a sporting event. We always find ourselves talking, laughing or complaining about “that guy” on the way home. During this particular match up it seemed that every fool in Milwaukee made his way to the Bradley Center with the sole intention of fulfilling a precise stereotype. They all came out to flaunt their insanity so I took as many mental notes as possible. The “drunk guy” and “stats guy” have been a little over done, so I wanted to take this time to let you in on my own personal short-list.

“The clap out of sync guy(s)”: I watched an entire student section clap in unison while a group of 4 kids were apparently trying to let us know just how white they were. It looked as though they couldn’t even hear the music blaring through the arena speakers and were just happy to be present to watch the big black guys they normally only see on T.V. One by one they slowly fell into line, but by that time they were too late – the song was over and one of them was too busy fumbling through his program. You can usually point these guys out without trying too hard, they generally look like children at Michael Jackson’s Neverland Ranch – dazzled, yet unsure and frightened.

“The overzealous screamer”: We were lucky enough to have one of these jack asses sitting right behind us, so I got a first hand look into the every thought of someone completely whacked out of her mind. She screamed at every call or non-call, good or bad play and most of the time belted out shit that just didn’t make any sense. Hurling comments like “T him up!” “move it around the perimeter!” and “Good boy!” when they didn’t apply and for apparently no reason at all. When I finally mustered up the courage to turn around and catch a glimpse of the boisterous bitch she was every bit as terrifying as I imagined.

“I’M OVER HERE!!!”: You know this asshole. He’s the guy standing up with a phone to his ear and one arm waving frantically in the air. It’s most likely that he is waving to the “out of sync clapping guys”, as I’m sure they go way back. He is another one of those ‘just happy to be here’ guys.

“Stand ‘n’ clap”: This person is almost always well over 300 pounds, and why not? It only makes sense that the one guy who can blot out the sun just loves to show his team spirit by eclipsing the stadium lights to clap for his team….through the entire god damn game. In our case he was decked in all yellow, which is funny all by itself.

“Jumbo tron sluts”: Some love ’em, some hate ’em but it’s tough to get through a game without seeing a pack of them. The usual M.O. for this group begins by them being caught on camera looking more apathetic than Paris Hilton trying to read a book. As soon as they detach their cheek from their boyfriend’s arm to find out theyve been spotted, LOOK OUT! it’s showtime! It’s almost automatic for them to gather in a Charlie’s Angles kind of pose or otherwise fighting over the 5 seconds of camera time. Another will undoubtedly be prepping her face for the patented lip pucker move. Another is definitely going to be seen in sunglasses even though we’re inside (because the sun never sets on cool, duh) and there is probably one girl encompassing the entire spectrum of douche bag in one fell swoop – and what neglected hussy would be complete without the famous ‘sideways peace sign’ to top it all off?

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