A Greater Moment in O.C.D. History

The time is 4:13 P.M and I am being force to listen to Puff the Magic Dragon by Peter, Paul, and Mary. I left my headphones in the car and I am sitting right over the speakers at this organic coffee shop. Probably what I get for going to an organic coffee shop anyways. So we have a first in New Prussia, an addendum to my last entry if you will. I don’t think I have had an update before as opposed to new entries all together, but considering the circumstances I would call it appropriate. So now I give you the first ever….

Great Moments In O.C.D. History Update:

So my last entry discussed the fact that I hate the bathroom key all the clients have to take with them into the bathroom at work. The receptionist keeps the vile, germ encrusted, thing on the desk and I avoid it at all costs. Anyway, they moved the marketing dept. and human resources into another office set across the hall next to the restrooms. We also have a large conference room and computer training room in our side of the building. My desk sits out in the open where every one has to pass through. I look kind of like a receptionist but I am not at all. So the partners were all meeting in the conference room and one of them walks out and says, “Jeff, do you have a restroom key?” I said “no.”. (I have my own personal one but no general one.)

“Well, we need to get you one for people over here.” She said.

“Like hell you do.” Was what I nearly responded. Instead I swallowed my anxiety and squeaked out a feeble “sure.”

The next day the H.R. woman walks up to my desk and places a key on it. Now whenever anyone in our area needs to go they grab this key and take it with them. Of course, they set it back down on my desk when done with it. They plague filled thing just sits there like the coiled Cobra I mentioned in the last entry, just watching and waiting for me to get to get within striking distance. The irony here is killing me. I mean this is the type of irony Shakespeare would be jealous of. This literally happened the very day after I posted about how I hate the public use key. I can’t believe the rotten, crappy luck I have. I don’t even want to be near it or breath the air around it, let alone touch it.

On the plus side I have thought of a way to have fun with. I will appoint myself the keeper of the key. In order for people to use it they must either A. Solve a riddle or a puzzle or B. Bring me some kind of gift or offering. This has all sorts of potential. I could wear a dark cloak, grow a long beard and use a quill pen on parchment paper to write the list of users down. If they don’t do one of those two things they can’t go to the bathroom. Simple enough and I win either way.

I have decided to try and blog more. Instead of doing one really long blog every month I am going to try and do more short quick hits. We shall see how it goes. Later gang.

Twice the germs! Twice the fun!

The time is 5:45 and I am listening to reggae of some sorts. It is playing at the Starbucks I am at. Oh, the Starbucks I am at happens to be overlooking Laguna Beach. The weather is 60 degrees, the breeze is refreshing and the sun just finished setting. Whenever I wonder why I am paying out the butt to live in SoCal, I just need to come down here and remind myself. It’s weird, I have been here almost a year now but I have only been to the beach four or five times. I think I should make a pledge to go the beach once a month to write and/or brainstorm and check out chicks. Of course, somehow this time I ended up driving down to Laguna with a guy I am friends with. I kid you not, this is the gayest thing I have done in a long time. It was near sunset and all along the boardwalk were these cute little couples cuddling and watching the sun set into the ocean, and here I am leaning against the rail with this dude. (Technically we were watching the surfers.) Then we went to Starbucks afterwards and sat outside and talked for awhile. It was such a romantic evening. Since then at least half a dozen people have told me Laguna is a popular spot for homosexuals. I swear I am never going down there without a girl again.


And now it’s time for…

Great Moments in OCD History!

Fair citizens, I delight you today with not one, but two, great moments in OCD history. The first involves me personally, the second does not, but I digress, so let us begin. Due to the layout of the building I work in, the restrooms are outside of the building, sort of like a gas station. This means they stay locked for safety reasons. Their being locked has the unfortunate side effect of having to have a key to open it. Now everyone who works here has their own key, but clients, clients are different, they have to use the general purpose key kept at the receptionist desk, much like the school hall pass or something. So I found myself being the only one up front when a client comes in and asks for the key. Fear rises within me. I mean, different people are taking this thing to the bathroom with them. I HOPE they leave it on the sink counter, but probably they set it on the filthy toilet or on the toilet paper dispenser. For all I know, they could have dropped it in the toilet itself. This poses quiet a problem for me. I eye it suspiciously on the desk, sitting there like a coiled viper, waiting to bite me. I briefly consider giving him my key, but my key is clean and kept safely in my pocket. No one is allowed to use my key, lest they contaminate it and make it ceremonially unclean. I slowly reach for the key, anxiety building. Right when I touch it the snake bites. What did I just expose myself to? Hundred of diseases could be crawling all over it, from scurvy to Ebola. I was sure to die a painful death. I hand him the keys and tell him to go quickly go God’s sake, get out of here! I then calmly walk out of the room until I round the corner. Then I hauled ass to the kitchen, lathered my hands up, scrubbed them for thirty seconds, rinsed them and repeated the process one more time. Hopefully I will live, but don’t send flowers if I die, instead make a generous donation to the OCD of America Foundation.


The second story is a first for Great Moments because it doesn’t involve me directly but rather a story I read that troubled me greatly. So yesterday I read about two survivors who had been afloat at sea for 25 days after their fishing ship had sunken somewhere around Indonesia/Australia. They said that everyone else drowned, but as the ship was going down, they saw a cooler, yes a cooler, about the size of a desk floating out of the ship, so they swam to it and got inside it. They floated in this thing, in shark infested waters for 25 days and somehow survived. The article said that they were dehydrated and that currently doctors were trying to find out how they survived and what they drank to stay alive. What they drank to stay alive?? Out in the sea for 25 days!! The answer should be obvious to anyone! THEIR URINE! They had to right? I mean the body can’t go more then a few days without water and salt water is no good, so what else is there? I’m pretty sure this cooler wasn’t filled with Desani or Miller Lite. Immediately, to my horror, I realized this is what must have happened and I wanted to puke. I tried to picture myself in this situation. (Why I have no idea) Cupping my hands, lifting the warm liquid to my lips, you get the picture, and as the anxiety of just thinking about it rose I realized that if I was ever lost at sea, I would be just as good as dead. Not even to get out of the deepest darkest pit of some grotesque, unimaginable hell would I drink urine. If God appeared to me and said, “Verily Jefferson, I say unto thee, in order to pass through the pearly gates and have an inheritance in mine kingdom, all ye has to do is drinketh up of thine own urine,” (This is the KJV of the Lord, not the NAS, NIV and certainly not the Message.) then I would be damned straight to hell.
If I was in a cooler floating in shark infested waters I would do my best to attract a shark and throw myself at it, hoping it will end me quickly rather then drink the lemonade of death. Of course, the worst assumption here on my part is that they drank their OWN urine, the alternative, yeah, we aren’t going to go there.

You Got To Have Faith:
I think it would be funny if there was a faith healer who healed appliances and electronics instead of people. I can see it now, a long, line of people bringing in busted printers, blown speakers, VCR’s, coffee pots, 8 track players, Commodore 64’s, and lots of HP Desktops. He would lay hands on them, say a prayer and yell “Be healed!” and lo, they would work! Instead of just blowing on them like Benny Hinn does he could just use a can of condensed air that you use for cleaning keyboards. Just spray on the Spirit and bam! It is healed! Now that is somebody I would tithe to.


Well folks that about does it for this entry. Hope you enjoyed it and catch you next.

Blast From the Past.

The time is 10:30 P.M. and I am listening to The Muse. We have a few things we can discuss tonight and I might not get to them all but we shall see. For one, we can talk about my new job a bit, also random Obama paraphernalia, gay protests, charismatic faith healers, possibly Michael Phelps, or eve an email scam I chanced upon in my inbox. Let’s start with the email.

So I have been getting a lot of spam mail the last few months and they are getting annoying. Sometimes they are cleverly labeled like “Are you that guy I used to pick on in Jr. High? (The answer is probably)” and “Are you that nerdy guy with the pimples from math class?” (The answer to this is definitely.) So much to my curiosity I opened my inbox and saw an email titled, “Hey it’s Erin…remember me?” I thought really hard for a moment, yes, I had known a couple of Erin’s in the past. At the same time however a cautious warning that it could be an invitation to porn crossed my mind. My curiosity, among other things, was aroused, so I immediately opened it. This is what I read.

“It’s been awhile, Almost 2 years now I think! This still you? What have you been up to? Still single? I have been with my GF for just about 2 years now! We met a little while after you and I stopped talking.”

I thought, okay this has to be porn related but I will make sure. So I read on:

“She’s really great and is the reason I am messaging you... her bday is coming up and since we are both into men I thought it would be fun to set some fun up for us as a present! I remembered how hot you are…”

I would just like to state that when she said, “I remembered how hot you are…” it became painfully obvious that this was a hoax. No girl from my past still in her right mind would call me hot. On a very nice day, if they are feeling generous, I might get a cute, but never a hot. I will let you finish reading the rest of the email if you are curious.

“…And was wondering if you were still interested in meeting us and taking it even further hehe”

Hehe indeed. I mean seriously, this is the kind of low grade, hack job, crappy writing I am supposed to fall subject to? I should be offended, no rising action, (Hehe, no pun here either) no antagonist/protagonist, no sense of irony, please spare me the Harlequin details. Anyway, there was a link there that I did not post here lest you may stumble, nor did I follow it myself. I can’t actually prove that I didn’t, so you will just have to trust me.

Gay Day: So I am sure you are all familiar with the recent protests for gay marriage. One such protest came to my attention from a newspaper in San Francisco. It stated that on a certain day this year every gay person “call in gay to work” and not show up to protest their rights. They were calling it A Day Without A Gay. I don’t know if this plan really ever happened or if it was just a possibility. It is pretty darn funny though. So if this is like calling in sick are they equating homosexuality to a sickness? We discussed this issue at work and we decided this would actually work against their cause because all their co-workers would be pissed at having to cover their jobs while they “Called in Gay.” Besides, if they actually went a day without gays, then every Disney store in the world would all be closed since at once. We also thought that, given the bad job market, calling in to work was not a wise idea. However, I have to say, “A Day Without A Gay” is better then their original idea which was “A Year Without A Queer.”

ODD JOBS:
So I have a new job as you all should know by now. It is pretty cool and the people I work with seem nice enough. They are letting me pretty much design their intranet site, which leaves me with loads of tantalizing possibilities. I have a cubbie (much like a cubicle but made of dry wall.) It has a window and faces my boss’s office. I have a cubbie hole? I have never had one before. What should I do with it? This leaves me in a conundrum of sorts. Everyone knows when you have an office, there are certain obligatory items that you must put in it, that more or less define you, or at least give off clues about yourself. Pictures of family or pets, bobble head dolls, sports stuff, little figurines or signs along with a whole myriad of other possibilities. So I will ask you dear reader, what should I put in my cubbie that defines me?

I know what you are thinking, a map of Middle Earth, Cobra Commander figure, a model Tie Fighter, a poster of a hot elf chick licking a dagger and maybe some multi-sided dice. But I have a chance here to be creative and not let them see me as a nerd just yet. Specifically, there are two special points of interest: the screen saver, and the calendar.

My current screen saver says, “Dell” on it and the current calendar hanging on my wall is a “Waterfalls of the World” one. I was at least hoping for a “Large rocks of the earth,” one but no, I get water. So I ask for your suggestions. My current laptop background is the picture of me with my Russian hat and German coat on. I call it the Czar picture and my friend Faith took it a few years ago. Maybe I should just use it for my screensaver. As for a calendar, how about the Far Side daily calendar or possibly a homemade "Cats I Have Loved" calendar. You decide.

So I am sitting at work on Friday and my boss walks in with a box and says, “Jeff, here are your business cards.” And I’m like, “I get business cards?!?! HELL YEAH!!!!” Was more or less my response. I have business cards now. I feel so grown up and professional. It says Jeff Jordan on it and has our company and logo etc on it. I was hoping it said, R. Jefferson Jordan, ESQ, Marketer Extraordinaire on it, but alas it didn’t. I latter asked an attorney friend of mine if Esquire was saved only for attorneys and she said, “yes. Damn lawyers, why do they get all the cool titles.

Anyway, I get business cards! I can’t wait to start handing them out to hot girls I meet on chance encounters. The real trick I have to learn is how to sneak in and leave some in women’s restrooms without getting caught. Sounds like a great way to meet chicks in my opinion.

I also have to bring a gag gift for the company white elephant party next week. I am brainstorming.

What to take a bunch of accountants? Maybe pocket protectors. One co-worker went online and found a black bobble head Jesus that looks like Snoop Dog. I totally want this. I have been debating collecting weird stuff anyway and I think that would fit right in.

Well gang that is about it for now. As you see from my first paragraph I have plenty of material to pull from for another blog or two. Until then Merry Christmas and Happy New Year and all that.

A Good 'Ole Fashioned Blog

The time is 8:51 P.M. and I am listening to Rhetoric. Okay, not really but I thought it sounded intellectual and all. So tonight I don’t have anything long or fancy, just a good ole’ fashioned blog, a return to the good ole’ days if you will, when life was simpler and there was no internet to make things complicated. Today we talk about Karate and I write my own worship song. So without further delay here we go.

Karate for Christ: Okay folks, this is something I have been planning to write about for sometime but kept putting it off. However, every day at work, I am confronted with this issue and so I finally have gotten around to writing about it. Across from my Sbux, there is a Christian Bookstore. One day I went to work and noticed a new business next door to it. The sign read, and I kid you not, Karate for Christ. My satirical instincts quickly rose to the occasion. I mean this is the very kind of Christian crap I hate, and here was the perfect opportunity to mock it.
I don’t like Karate for Christ; Karate is overrated as a form of self-defense. I much prefer the noble art of Judo for Jesus, also called Jew-do, or maybe as my brother suggested, Tai-Kwon-Do Unto Others. I see Karate for Christ as being there own sect of Christianity, much like the old monastic orders. I just have one question here. Do they teach their students to turn the other cheek? Or do they teach you to chop the other cheek? While many sects follow the teachings of St. Paul or St. John they probably follow the teaching of St. Norris, who never sleeps, he just waits. I am sure they spurn the teachings of St. Francis a Sissy. (I’m proud of that historical pun) He was way to pacifistic for them.
I can see them now, instead of using the Sword of the Spirit or the Breastplate of Righteousness, they use the Nun-Chuck of Redemption and the Bo Staff of Judgment. I think the whole idea is hilarious but I will spare you anymore bad puns. I did find out afterwards that the Main Place, a very large local church that also runs a nearby theatre and thrift store, is running the center. However that makes the whole thing even lamer in my opinion Oh well…

Speaking of which, if I was to ever start my own Dojo (Yeah right) I have decided I would name it the Cobra Kai Dojo. Many of you will remember this as the “evil” dojo in the Karate Kid movies. I mean, who wouldn’t want to join that? And yes, I would teach my students to sweep the legs, you heard me, sweep the legs. Muahahaha.

Bruce Springsteen To Launch Voter Drive – Four years ago Bruce Springsteen made a controversial tour, with many other artists, called the Rock the Vote tour in attempt to get John Kerry elected. (Much to the ire of my Dad.) He is doing it again this year, of course, the name of this years' tour? Barack the Vote.

I have decided to write my own worship song. It seems like so many people nowadays do so I figured why not me? So here it goes…

He is our thirst quencher,
He is our hunger buster.
He is the soul reaper
And Ketchup to our Mustard

He’s Omnipotent, Omniscient and Omnivorous

So we sing….

Forever God is Eternal
And that’s a fairly long time.
We lift our arms in worship,
And sometimes we really mean it
And that last line didn’t rhyme.

And we try to focus on you,
And not the hot girl in the pew,
Wearing a low cut strapless shirt,
That has no business being seen in church.

(Repeat)

So we sing…

Forever God is Eternal
And that’s a fairly long time,
We lift our arms in worship,
And sometime we really mean it.
And that last line didn’t rhyme.

I think mine is pretty good and brutally honest. Perhaps I will submit it to DK, our music minister and see what he thinks. The only down side is I can’t write music, but I have a rough tune in my head.

Well that’s about it for now folks, I have to go practice my forms for my yellow belt test.

The Night of the Hell Spawned Turd.

">The time is 3:02 A.M. and I am listening to more Wilco. That’s right folks, A.M. as in the middle of the night. Sorry it has been so long, I have been rather bored and uninspired lately, however you have to strike while the irons hot, so here it is. Now normally I would take the time to give you a brief update on my life and all that’s going on, however, something so terrible, so horrible happened a few days ago, that we are going to jump right in on this one. WARNING: The content you are about to read is graphic and might offend some readers. It’s been awhile since we have had a good one, but I kid you not, I present to you, a truly epic episode of…

Great Moments In O.C.D. History: So for several complex geo-political reasons, my store has a lot of homeless, crazies and transients. Seriously, I can think of five off hand we have to deal with. Once we even had to call the police to have them escorted off the property, (he just took off one day, running into the streets, yelling and banging on peoples car windows.) Let’s call him Leon. There is another one who hangs out all evening, is fairly polite and doesn’t quite smell as bad, let’s call him Lenny. Now one Saturday, I had a very long and tiring shift and by the end of it, around 5:00 P.M all I wanted to do was get the hell out of dodge. So an hour or so before my shift ends we get this big Frappacino rush, long lines, multiple orders, and just two of us to handle it. So I am on register taking orders and writing cups, and in walks Lenny. Great, I think, well, no big deal anyways. A minute later walks in Leon followed by another tall crazy looking dude with a hunchback, let’s call him Quasi. Now Leon was specifically told never to return to the store and if he does we are to tell him to leave and call the cops. However, we are in the middle of this rush and I can’t really shout across the store yelling at him to leave. So a minute later Lenny looks at me and points to the restroom. I nod my head. He uses are bathroom to freshen up but usually asks before he does. He goes in. Leon and Quasi then decide to get in line for the bathroom as well. We are still in the middle of the rush and I really can’t stop everything to deal with them yet.

A few minutes later Lenny exits, then Leon goes in, a few minutes later, he comes out, and Quasi goes in. We still have a long line. Then Quasi opens the door and walks out as well. Lenny is outside now and Leon is sitting down. Quasi walks past me and says in a deep voice, “Your bathroom needs some attention.” He then sits down.

Immediately I had a terrible sinking feeling in my stomach. The store was still filled with customers though so I couldn’t check things out yet. After the line goes down I pull myself away from the bar long enough to check the bathroom. I was nervous as I slowly approached it. I felt like a kid walking to the principles office, or worse, I felt like a death row inmate being led to the execution chamber. I stopped in front of the door. Trembling slightly, my hand reached for the knob. I stopped and lowered my hand in hesitation, or more likely, survival instinct. I shook my head and took a deep breath. I lifted my hand again and grabbed the doorknob. I slowly turned it, the seconds seemed like hours, everything was going in slow motion. The knob clicked open. I pulled and the door swung open.

I was instantly hit with an overpowering wave of stench that threatened to make me vomit. Suppressing my gag reflexes for the first of what was to be many times I looked inside. There in the bathroom of Starbucks, lay the most hideous, foul, disgusting thing I have seen since the Clinton vs. Obama primaries. It was as if a dark portal to the underworld had opened up and that hell had spewed its vilest, most blasphemous creation onto the bathroom floor. For you see, there on the bathroom floor of the Newport/ El Camino Starbucks lay a large pile of loose human excrement. Not only was there a pile, but there were smears of it all over the floor and around the toilet. It was like somebody just decided to wipe their butt on the floor instead of using paper.

This is the part of the narration where words fail me, but I shall try. I felt a chill rush down my spine. Like somebody had thrust a freezing cold dagger (With a frost enchantment on it.) through my upper torso and stuck it all the way down my spine. (It felt strangely similar to being rejected by a girl- fancy that!) Then, like a bomb going off, I felt a torrent of heat rush up through my gut, through my chest, and into my mind. Yes, Jeff Jordan was having a panic attack. I slammed the door shut and ran to the back and kicked the mop sink as hard as I could. What was I going to do? What could I do? I couldn’t even look at it, let alone clean it, nor could I make anyone else do so in good conscience. What could I do?

I think this was the absolute closest I have ever been to having a mental break down. I was mad as hell. I was mad as a hornet’s net poked by a stick. A hornet’s nest poked by a stick and gasoline being poured over it. Gasoline poured on it and then being knocked off the tree branch, picked up and thrown into a fire. I wanted to drag all three of those crazy buggers out onto the patio, cut their heads off right there, and spike them on the patio umbrella as a warning to all other crazy freaks to keep the hell away.

I ran back to the lobby and confronted Leon and Quasi. Did you do that? I practically yelled at them. Oh no, not us, of course not, they replied. It was Lenny, they claimed, he is “eccentric” they said. “You’re not even supposed to be here ever again.” I told them as I went outside to Lenny and threw out the same question. Of course it wasn’t him either, he always leaves the bathroom clean, he informed me.

I now had to think of the customers. I ran into the back, made a sign stating that if anybody even so much as opened the bathroom door, let alone step foot into it, then I would cuts their limbs off, stuff them in the blender, and serve them to them as a Frapiccino. I walked back outside, Leon and Quasi were gone now. At least one burden was gone.

I looked at the floor, their were small turd stains on the it. Quasi and or Leon had evidently tracked it out into the lobby as well. Great. I honestly didn’t know what to do. I went to the back, said a very brief prayer, and took a few deep breaths. About this time the shift change came. The girl relieving me came in and I told her and the other employees what happened.

“I know your not going to leave that mess for me.” She said. Damn straight I am was what I wanted to respond, after all, it was past time for me to leave.

“Well maybe we should just leave it for the manager in the morning.” I said, knowing full well we couldn’t do that, but oh what a prank it would have been. I went to the back and called the manager, there was no answer.

So I figured the first thing I got had to do was clean the lobby floor where they tracked some out. There wasn’t much and in three minutes of excruciating mental pain, I had mopped it up. That still left the bathroom. I looked at it one more time and suppressed another attempt by my body to vomit. I can’t do it, I told the Lord. I simply can’t. I walked back out, held my hand in my head trying to think. As far as I was concerned, I wanted to Napalm the whole festering pit to pieces. I figured Napalm MIGHT kill all the germs. It was from a homeless guy after all and probably contained, AIDS, Hepatitis ABCDEFGHIJKL and Z, Scurvy, Malaria and Lime disease.

About that time, salvation came through the door. One of our new girls, let’s call her Whitney, was working. Her brother was in to visit her at work. He had just gotten out of prison and really didn’t have much going for him. Whitney told him what had happened.

“Shoot, I’ll clean it for 20 bucks,” he said. I could not believe it. Twenty bucks????? That was all???? I would pay him out of my own money if I had to. Ka-Ching! I went to the cash register and did a 20-dollar pay out. A pay out is basically a way of getting quick cash out of the tills in case of an emergence. As far as I was concerned, this was a disaster the size of Katrina, but instead of swamp water from a whole in a dam it was diarrhea from a dam A-hole. (I thought that was pretty clever.)

Anyways to wrap this thing up, I guess after being in prison, homeless feces isn’t such a big deal. I got the cleaning supplies out, paid him the twenty and walked out the door, suppressing another attempt at retching, but at least somewhat sane. I went home quickly and I don’t even remember the rest of the night.

EPILOGUE: The next day before church I went in to talk to the manager to explain everything that had happened. She apologized for not answering the phone etc. and then told me some wonderful news. Whenever anything like that happened, we are not allowed to touch it. In fact, we lock the bathroom door and in the worst case scenarios we may have to close the store. The best part is that there is an emergency number we call to get a biohazard crew out here to clean up the stuff. I then replied this would have been a nice thing for them to tell us in TRAINING! They made no mention of it, I would have remembered it because I always was worried something like this might happen. Anyway, the biohazard clean up cost like 1,500 Dollars so I basically got a guy to do for 20 bucks a biologically dangerous job that normally pays 1,500$. Dang, what a bargain, I am keeping his number in my wallet from now on. I smiled slyly as I informed the manager that I just saved the company 1,480 dollars. I then asked for a raise.

Right, so there you have it, arguably the worst night in my life. It was certainly the worst in recent memory. I have to apologize for the graphic content of this humorous yet insightful look into the mind of O.C.D. I am proud of myself for making it all the way through this entry about poop without dropping an S bomb though.

Catch you all next time.