I have to work very closely with a man who will call Jerry. Jerry called me one day to see if he could come up to my desk to work on a project. I said sure. That sounds great. Now, he called during lunchtime, which normally would bother me, but today I was okay with it because I got in late, ate breakfast late and wasn't quite hungry yet. Anyways, I digress. When Jerry gets to my desk, I ask him why he wasn't eating lunch. He says he doesn't normally eat breakfast or lunch, because he has chewing tobacco. I mean, if I had chewing tobacco, I wouldn't eat either. Who needs a hamburger when you have a small tub of ground up filth that you can put in your mouth and will eventually eat YOU?
Nonetheless, I work with Jerry that day. And THAT day, just like all the others, I become nauseous from the smell of his breath. His breath reeks of tobacco and large quantities of coffee. And he spends most of the time we are working together, leaning over my shoulder and reading what I am typing...so his fantastic breath is as close my intake valve (nose) as possible. It's wonderful. I spend the full two hours he is there applying and reapplying my scented hand lotion in hopes that his breath won't permanently taint my wonderufl smelling hands. Although, now, I could probably wipe my butt with my hands, just rinse off any chunks and no one would notice.
Disgusting. People are disgusting. Bathe people. It's not hard. While you're in there, clean out underneath your fingernails. Or, even better, just trim them so junk can't live under there. Or, if you INSIST on living in filth, at least respect everyone else enough to purchase one of those bubble outfits so the rest of us don't have to suffer.
I Hate Green Beans Podcast 20: Melanie Shankle
8 hours ago