Blob on the side of the filing cabinet
Years ago at my day job, there was a disgusting blob made of lint, hair, gummy stuff and a staple stuck on the side of the filing cabinet. To give you a hint about how long ago this was, MySpace was the coolest place ever and no one I knew had ever heard of Facebook.
So I set up a MySpace profile for the little guy. I described him as male, an inch high and with the body type of "more to love." He was also single. Which meant that he got tons and tons of sexually-oriented spam. And Blob decided to blog his life. Here are some of the entries:
I CAN hear what you say about me! (June 10, 2006)
Current mood:pissed off
You may think that because I lack ears I can't hear you. But I can!
Like this conversation I overheard Friday afternoon:
Z: God, it's still there!
A: Yuck! I think it's gotten bigger!
K: What are you guys looking at?
Z: This thing that has been on the filing cabinet for months.
K: [Squeals] That's disgusting. [Peers closer. I see one giant blue eye.] What do you think it's made of? What makes it stick on there?
A: Nobody knows.
Z: [Mysterious oo-ooh sound]
K: Should we take it off?
Z & A together: No, no, leave it on. Let's see how long it lasts.
=====
Someday the tables will be turned! Someday I will be on the one who decides who lives - and who dies!
And Then I Saw Her Face! (June 12, 2006)
Current mood:giddy
Last week, when the swinging door to the kitchen/work area swung open, I saw her.
She was on the side of the big gray garbage can in the middle of the floor, the one that the building manager asked in a memo that the people who work here (and make fun of me) to use, as opposed to their "deskside waste receptacles."
But I digress.
She is about one-half inch tall, with a round, voluptous body. I'm not sure what she was originally - A bit of ketchup? A smear of salad dressing? Something that dripped from one of those bags of disintegrated vegetables the workers sometimes find in the back of the refrigerator? But now, like myself, she has grown. Bits of dust and dirt have stuck to her. She grows thicker every day.
Now I pass the long minutes when I can't see her with thinking of how I might signal her. Should I wave my hair alluringly? Spit my staple toward her?
Be still my beating dust molecules!
The Mocking Has Reached a New Level (June 15, 2006)
I got an email from a very sexy young lady.
She wrote: hello sexy,im melissa im new to myspace and thought i would msg a few people...i uploaded my cam and pics at my Homepage! Click Here so we can chat XOXo 2172
Do you think she knows who I am? What I am?
How many ways can the world think of to torment me?
What is it with me and chicks named Melissa? (June 26, 2006)
I'm trying to unpeel myself off this filing cabinet and just thow myself out into space - but it won't work.
And then I get another missive from another Melissa:
Hey!
So, looks like the time has arrived for me to start using this site. I can hold back no longer.. Let the obsession begin! I wandered into your "space" and well, I liked what I saw.. :p
RIGHT. I LIVE ON A FILING CABINET. IT MIGHT AS WELL BE IN A VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER.
So um, my name is Melissa. I think we should probably be friends, cause you seem pretty fun, and smart, and maybe even cute! (it's everso tough to tell in this cruel digital world.. :) LADY, I AM MADE OF SOMETHING YOU WOULD SCRAPE OFF YOUR SHOE!
anyways, i would go on forever, but I want to get a response from you first! You should check out my other page on this other site, I'm allllways on over there: www.[deleted] (my username is yazmetaz). I doubt if i'll be logging in here everyday anyway. Then maybe we could chat sometime! you know what they say.. looks catches the eyes, but personality catches the heart.. LOL!
LOL??? - HOW ABOUT BS? I DON'T HAVE LOOKS AND MY PERSONALITY IS A VERY ANGRY ONE!
talk to you soon,
Melissa
Am I really Mr. Right? (June 23, 2006)
Current mood:hopeful
So, now this new girl wants me to be my friend. Jennifer says she is a college student in pre-med. She can't spell the word "field." She has a picture - she appears to be a kind of scary mannish-looking girl in a camisole. Her profile begs you to click on her picture to see more pics .. and suddenly you are whisked away to a different Web site, and a different girl named "sweet jen" is wearing a red camisole with straps that seem to be too long, because they are falling off her shoulders.
And the first part of the Web site reads (My comments are in ALL CAPS because I think I would have to shout before she could hear me):
Can you hear my voice in your head at this moment...
YES, AND IT SAYS I AM SO DESPERATE THAT I AM NOW COMING ON TO A PIECE OF GUNK STUCK ON THE SIDE OF A FILING CABINET
See my body rise and fall at a thought of your touch? You are not here, but somehow - You are -
I AM WHAT? ARE YOU INSINUATING SOMETHING ABOUT MY STAPLE?
You are kissing me slowly
WITH MY STAPLE?
[deletion here due to frank sexual content]
Your tongue - so slow.
UM, LADY, THAT'S MY STAPLE.
[more deletions necessary]
And you shiver at the thought. Fingers searching - slightest of touch and yet, you feel goose bumps rise on your skin.
SKIN? LADY, CRAZY LADY, THAT'S JUST THE STICKY STUFF THAT LET'S ME STAY ON THE SIDE OF THE FILING CABINET. I HAVE NO SKIN.
Let me in. Is that what your eyes are asking me for? I am crying out as you watch me - body trembling - eyes wide in wonder. I look to you - our eyes meeting. No fear. Constant. And I smile...as a sigh escapes me. And my body presses against you and I say...please...my hands pulling you to me...please...My kiss...I want you to taste my kiss. My lips, to yours...
I DONT HAVE LIPS. AND IF YOU COME NEAR ME WITH YOUR LIPS, I PROMISE YOU THAT YOU WILL BE SPITTING AND WIPING YOUR MOUTH WITH THE BACK OF YOUR HAND AND TRYING HARD NOT TO THROW UP FOR HOURS.
...
AND THEN BIZARRELY AT THE BOTTOM OF THE WEB SITE, YOU WRITE:
I am a Mexican food lover! I love Fonda San Miguel to Taco Bell, so as you can see I'm not too picky! IThey had charged us $8 for each of our margaritas! the price he told us they would be was $5.50. So that just put the nail in the coffin for that restuarant! Their food wasnt great and their staff isnt well informed enought to tell the customer the correct price of items on special
LET ME JUST SAY THAT AFTER KISSING ME, YOU ARE GOING TO WANT TO DOWN A LOT OF MARGARITAS TO FORGET. BUT EVEN THAT MIGHT NOT BE ENOUGH.
=====
I had no idea that human girls were so hard up that they would email anyone male, even someone who to be honest isn't too sure of his sexual identity, and who, in his profile, describes himself as one-inch tall and with a body type that is "more to love."
I think I'm going to forget all about the beautiful smear on the side of the gray garbage can. I'm raising my sights. I'm going to date humans from now on. But who should I go out with first - Melissa, Melissa, or Jennifer? All I know is, when she comes striding down the hall toward me in her camisole with the straps falling down and her finger in her mouth and her head tilted coyly to one side, after all the things she's said to me she had better not run shrieking the other way. I have not lied, I have not doctored my picture in any way, I have not claimed to make millions of dollars or to have more hair than two or three.
So I set up a MySpace profile for the little guy. I described him as male, an inch high and with the body type of "more to love." He was also single. Which meant that he got tons and tons of sexually-oriented spam. And Blob decided to blog his life. Here are some of the entries:
I CAN hear what you say about me! (June 10, 2006)
Current mood:pissed off
You may think that because I lack ears I can't hear you. But I can!
Like this conversation I overheard Friday afternoon:
Z: God, it's still there!
A: Yuck! I think it's gotten bigger!
K: What are you guys looking at?
Z: This thing that has been on the filing cabinet for months.
K: [Squeals] That's disgusting. [Peers closer. I see one giant blue eye.] What do you think it's made of? What makes it stick on there?
A: Nobody knows.
Z: [Mysterious oo-ooh sound]
K: Should we take it off?
Z & A together: No, no, leave it on. Let's see how long it lasts.
=====
Someday the tables will be turned! Someday I will be on the one who decides who lives - and who dies!
And Then I Saw Her Face! (June 12, 2006)
Current mood:giddy
Last week, when the swinging door to the kitchen/work area swung open, I saw her.
She was on the side of the big gray garbage can in the middle of the floor, the one that the building manager asked in a memo that the people who work here (and make fun of me) to use, as opposed to their "deskside waste receptacles."
But I digress.
She is about one-half inch tall, with a round, voluptous body. I'm not sure what she was originally - A bit of ketchup? A smear of salad dressing? Something that dripped from one of those bags of disintegrated vegetables the workers sometimes find in the back of the refrigerator? But now, like myself, she has grown. Bits of dust and dirt have stuck to her. She grows thicker every day.
Now I pass the long minutes when I can't see her with thinking of how I might signal her. Should I wave my hair alluringly? Spit my staple toward her?
Be still my beating dust molecules!
The Mocking Has Reached a New Level (June 15, 2006)
I got an email from a very sexy young lady.
She wrote: hello sexy,im melissa im new to myspace and thought i would msg a few people...i uploaded my cam and pics at my Homepage! Click Here so we can chat XOXo 2172
Do you think she knows who I am? What I am?
How many ways can the world think of to torment me?
What is it with me and chicks named Melissa? (June 26, 2006)
I'm trying to unpeel myself off this filing cabinet and just thow myself out into space - but it won't work.
And then I get another missive from another Melissa:
Hey!
So, looks like the time has arrived for me to start using this site. I can hold back no longer.. Let the obsession begin! I wandered into your "space" and well, I liked what I saw.. :p
RIGHT. I LIVE ON A FILING CABINET. IT MIGHT AS WELL BE IN A VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER.
So um, my name is Melissa. I think we should probably be friends, cause you seem pretty fun, and smart, and maybe even cute! (it's everso tough to tell in this cruel digital world.. :) LADY, I AM MADE OF SOMETHING YOU WOULD SCRAPE OFF YOUR SHOE!
anyways, i would go on forever, but I want to get a response from you first! You should check out my other page on this other site, I'm allllways on over there: www.[deleted] (my username is yazmetaz). I doubt if i'll be logging in here everyday anyway. Then maybe we could chat sometime! you know what they say.. looks catches the eyes, but personality catches the heart.. LOL!
LOL??? - HOW ABOUT BS? I DON'T HAVE LOOKS AND MY PERSONALITY IS A VERY ANGRY ONE!
talk to you soon,
Melissa
Am I really Mr. Right? (June 23, 2006)
Current mood:hopeful
So, now this new girl wants me to be my friend. Jennifer says she is a college student in pre-med. She can't spell the word "field." She has a picture - she appears to be a kind of scary mannish-looking girl in a camisole. Her profile begs you to click on her picture to see more pics .. and suddenly you are whisked away to a different Web site, and a different girl named "sweet jen" is wearing a red camisole with straps that seem to be too long, because they are falling off her shoulders.
And the first part of the Web site reads (My comments are in ALL CAPS because I think I would have to shout before she could hear me):
Can you hear my voice in your head at this moment...
YES, AND IT SAYS I AM SO DESPERATE THAT I AM NOW COMING ON TO A PIECE OF GUNK STUCK ON THE SIDE OF A FILING CABINET
See my body rise and fall at a thought of your touch? You are not here, but somehow - You are -
I AM WHAT? ARE YOU INSINUATING SOMETHING ABOUT MY STAPLE?
You are kissing me slowly
WITH MY STAPLE?
[deletion here due to frank sexual content]
Your tongue - so slow.
UM, LADY, THAT'S MY STAPLE.
[more deletions necessary]
And you shiver at the thought. Fingers searching - slightest of touch and yet, you feel goose bumps rise on your skin.
SKIN? LADY, CRAZY LADY, THAT'S JUST THE STICKY STUFF THAT LET'S ME STAY ON THE SIDE OF THE FILING CABINET. I HAVE NO SKIN.
Let me in. Is that what your eyes are asking me for? I am crying out as you watch me - body trembling - eyes wide in wonder. I look to you - our eyes meeting. No fear. Constant. And I smile...as a sigh escapes me. And my body presses against you and I say...please...my hands pulling you to me...please...My kiss...I want you to taste my kiss. My lips, to yours...
I DONT HAVE LIPS. AND IF YOU COME NEAR ME WITH YOUR LIPS, I PROMISE YOU THAT YOU WILL BE SPITTING AND WIPING YOUR MOUTH WITH THE BACK OF YOUR HAND AND TRYING HARD NOT TO THROW UP FOR HOURS.
...
AND THEN BIZARRELY AT THE BOTTOM OF THE WEB SITE, YOU WRITE:
I am a Mexican food lover! I love Fonda San Miguel to Taco Bell, so as you can see I'm not too picky! IThey had charged us $8 for each of our margaritas! the price he told us they would be was $5.50. So that just put the nail in the coffin for that restuarant! Their food wasnt great and their staff isnt well informed enought to tell the customer the correct price of items on special
LET ME JUST SAY THAT AFTER KISSING ME, YOU ARE GOING TO WANT TO DOWN A LOT OF MARGARITAS TO FORGET. BUT EVEN THAT MIGHT NOT BE ENOUGH.
=====
I had no idea that human girls were so hard up that they would email anyone male, even someone who to be honest isn't too sure of his sexual identity, and who, in his profile, describes himself as one-inch tall and with a body type that is "more to love."
I think I'm going to forget all about the beautiful smear on the side of the gray garbage can. I'm raising my sights. I'm going to date humans from now on. But who should I go out with first - Melissa, Melissa, or Jennifer? All I know is, when she comes striding down the hall toward me in her camisole with the straps falling down and her finger in her mouth and her head tilted coyly to one side, after all the things she's said to me she had better not run shrieking the other way. I have not lied, I have not doctored my picture in any way, I have not claimed to make millions of dollars or to have more hair than two or three.
