The views and opinions expressed in O'Keefe's Briefs(tm) are not necessarily those of The Management. In fact, they are very likely not even the views and opinions of the writer, the typeface designer, god or the President of the United States. You would be hard-pressed to find anyone who shares the extraordinary worldview expressed below, and should you, run. Far and fast. The Management would also like to point out that any references or similarities to any persons living, dead, or undead are entirely coincidental since we all know there are no such things as zombies anyhow.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Don’t you just hate it when you’re sitting there at your desk at work minding your own business and the urge comes upon you like the wrath of a vengeful god? You know, where you shoot up out of your chair, pinch, and shuffle off as quickly and nonchalantly as possible in the direction of the bathroom. And then that stupid intern has a stupid question for you in the hall, so you just stiff-arm that bitch because you really just don’t have time for that bullshit right now and then you’re feeling pretty good about your chances of making it in time until the Universal Law of Urge Over Distance kicks in, so that the closer you get to the bowl the worse you have to go and then you’re finally in the stall, and you start to let off a little bit of steam to relieve the pressure and hopefully buy a bit of time because in another second or so you’re going to lose this battle, and then you’ll have to go home “sick” and wad a bunch of paper in your drawers until you can make it to GAP or Bloomingdale's or Wherever to buy a new kit, then go to Starbucks and buy a latte you really don’t need just now just so you can use the bathroom to change and destroy the evidence which clogs their toilet anyway so you have light out of that place right quick, but for the moment everything is going fine, and you get your nest all laid out to protect against errant drips and crabs and whatnot, so you finally, in spite of the cold beads of sweat now dotting your face, manage to undo your belt, drop your pants and sit. Then, then the little fucker decides to get all shy on you, so you sit there wondering if you shouldn’t just go back to your desk knowing that one: your co-workers will think that was really too fast and you couldn’t have washed your hands if you did even manage to go; and that two: the second you get back in front of your computer the first corollary of the ULUOD will kick in which states that when you are furthest from a bathroom you will have to go, so you sit there hoping now that you don’t sit there too long so that your co-workers think that you didn’t have to go to the loo at all but are just killing time at work by hiding in a bathroom stall, because who would do that? Don’t you just hate that?