Category Archives: Pepto

ARE YOU AN ASSASSIN, PEPTO?

Let me tell you this one thing before I cough up this lump stuck in my gullet:

I hate losing my temper, and I’ve worked really hard to eradicate the entire concept of “having a temper” from my mental hard drive.

Today at work, I found it, buried somewhere in the code.

It actually started brewing and stewing on Monday, but I was able to hold it down for a while. One of the chimps that works for me in the jungle I get paid to run decided he was somehow SMARTER THAN ME, and attempted to download some bullshit streaming radio/magic playlist bullshit – ONTO A COMPUTER THAT IS PART OF A COMPANY-WIDE INTRANET, NO LESS. Of course, since he is so much SMARTER THAN ME, he thought it was okay to click some little box that popped onto his screen mentioning that part of the deal involved allowing some web junk from an outfit with the genius name of OUTERINFO to EMBED ITSELF INTO THE OPERATING SYSTEM*.

It was brought to my attention by the chimp that is actually supposed to be responsible for that computer – he of the bottomless well of spelling and/or grammatical errors and his never-ending run of “TUPAC WAS FROM THE BX, JUST LIKE ME, NIGGA!!!” shout outs(I constantly try to remind him that he’s a Puerto Rican, and his use of the N word is gratuitous and silly – but then he says shit like “YOU GOT JOKES, KID? YOU’S A FUNNY NIGGA!”). This, is how he broke he news to me:

“YO, THAT NIGGA DIDN’T LISTEN TO YOU, AND NOW I GOTS ALL THESE FUCKIN’ POP-UPS, B. I CAN’T EVEN CHECK MY E-MAILS WITHOUT POP-UPS AND SHIT. WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH ALL THESE FUCKIN’ POP-UPS?”

I just kind of stood there for a good long minute, marveling at his public speaking skills(another of his many gems that come rolling off his tongue when the mood strikes him – “IF JESUS WAS SO FUCKING SPECIAL, WHY AM I STUCK HERE IN HELL, B? I’M A FUCKIN’ CATHOLIC!”) before I responded with the very off-the-cuff “Just call IT and tell them to fix it, and stop fucking around on these work computers before I piss in your mouths”.

I’M FUCKIN’ CLASSY LIKE THAT, B.

So…

Yesterday, the shit started popping up on my computer, too. And then the female chimp that is supposedly my “assistant”(such an over-rated word, assistant – she’s about as much help as having a herpes outbreak at a nude beach) called me over to her computer to show me the ridiculous pair of silicon-enhanced cancer bags that had popped up on HER screen.

That’s when I really started to lose it a bit.

When the chimp responsible for this situation sauntered into work (10 minutes late, mind you), I asked him to close my office door and sit down. He somehow thought we were about to have a friendly conversation, because he immediately started to make small-talk with me. I let him talk for about 25 seconds before I lit him the fuck on up.

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU FUCKING THINKING, MAN? DIDN’T I TELL YOU NOT TO FUCK AROUND WITH THESE COMPUTERS, EINSTEIN? NOW THERE’S SOME BULLSHIT POP-UP CRAP HAPPENING ON MY COMPUTER, WHICH IS KEEPING ME FROM BEING ABLE TO DO MY JOB. DO YOU THINK THAT MAKES MY BOSSES HAPPY? DO YOU? I DON’T KNOW WHEN IT WAS THAT YOU TOOK YOUR ‘I’M SMARTER THAN SEAN’ PILL, BUT I HAVE TO TELL YOU – THAT SHIT DIDN’T WORK. NOW GO CALL THE IT DEPARTMENT, AND UN-ASS THAT SHIT BEFORE I ACTUALLY GET PISSED OFF AND TELL YOU HOW I REALLY FEEL. I HOPE YOU’RE HAVING A GOOD FUCKING TIME, ARE YOU?”

(That’s kind of close to what his face looked like, other than the race and all that)

After he scurried out of my office, I kind of sat there in a daze, staring at my screen and the wall of windows that were opening up all on their own – dating sites, used car sites, jugs, lost classmate search engines, credit report sites, wallpapers, free ring tones, more boobs, an ad for an ab-roller(even the pop-ups were mocking me at this point) – and I realized that there was no way I could win. The bug was embedded into the OS, and I was going to have to call my IT guys down in Memphis myself. Which I then did, and they told me to ship my geekbox down to them for rehabilitation(which I did tonight before I left work).

NOW COMES THE FUN PART…

Anyone who doesn’t live in a mud hut in the middle of a rain forest knows what happened here in The City yesterday – a steam pipe dating back to 1924 decided to burst, sending all kinds of people running for their lives out of fear that THE TERRORISTS had made a return engagement. This happened right in the middle of rush hour, and right next to Grand Central Station – a major commuter hub. A commuter hub that happens to get used daily by(as if you couldn’t guess already!) – PEPTO.

Pepto called me at 5:12AM, to let me know that he wasn’t going to make it in today, because there was supposedly ASBESTOS being released into the air.

ASBESTOS?

Look – anyone who grew up here in the Northeast, let alone in The City or any of the suburbs surrounding it, has already been plenty exposed to asbestos. It’s in all the schools, libraries, apartment buildings, train stations, and breakfast cereals in the area. Not to mention the fact that the environment in which Pepto works is filled with paper and toner dust from the Reprographic machines.

GENIUS.

It never ceases to amaze me how easily the general population will take advantage of something semi-tragic and/or cataclysmic so that they can malinger.

Pepto, of course, is in his own motherfucking league.

I’ll spare you all the play-by-play, but I’ll tell you this much – his retardery today certainly didn’t do anything to make my overall mood any better. I no longer have a geekbox to use at work, which renders me useless. My employees are all escapees from Planet Mongo.

And I’m fucking sleepy.

Good night, and good luck.

*I know nothing about computers – I just know mine is broken.

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Filed under dumbassery, fun at work, Pepto, racism, tomfoolery

THE BALLAD OF THE MAN THEY CALL PEPTO

I’m in a storytellin’-type of mood today, you warm and fuzzy little nogoodniks, and I’m having a hard time keeping the lid on this one:

That’s my most loyal and dedicated employee right there. Most of the time, I call him Buford – but he recently called me up at five o’thirty in the motherfucking morning to tell me he had consumed two full cans of baked beans, and was subsequently unable to come to work because he was shitting his brains out – so now I call that motherfucker Pepto.

Now – as I stated already – Pepto is my MOST LOYAL AND DEDICATED employee. That’s not to say he’s the sharpest chimp in this jungle I get paid to run – he’s kind of like a 50 watt bulb in a 100 watt world – but he does his job well, and he cares about his job. Of course, he has to care about his job, because he lives in his sister’s basement. The other chimps that work here like to pick on Pepto, making fun of him for living all the way up in Mt. Kisco (in the aforementioned basement). Mt. Kisco is in Westchester County, which is where people like M-M-M-Martha Stewart have set up camp. The other chimps are basically jealous, because they all live in rat-infested basement apartments in the dirty Bronx (which means that they should look forward to coming to Midtown to come to work, ungrateful little fuckstains).

Pepto is one of those cats, that no matter how bad your day is going, as soon as he opens up his mouth and speaks – the madness of his logic will cure whateverthefuck ails you.

Some of Pepto’s greatest diamonds and pearls:

1) One afternoon, one of the other chimps was talking about how much he loved the smell of rain or some other bullshit like that (actually – it was probably the smell of reefer, knowing my staff). Pepto, out of nowhere, coughs up this one:

“YOU KNOW WHAT SMELLS BETTER THAN ANYTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD? LITTLE GIRLS! NOTHING SMELLS BETTER THAN LITTLE GIRLS. I LOVE THE SMELL OF LITTLE GIRLS!”


(Yes – everyone’s jaws were hanging with Mr. Cooper)

Needless to say, there is hardly a day that passes where I don’t find myself looking at Pepto and wondering if he is a victim of Shaken Baby Syndrome and/or if I’ll end up seeing him on one of those Dateline stings exchanging IMs with a cop with a handlebar ‘stache and a coffee-stained tie.

2) Another afternoon, the other chimps were making fun of Pepto because he’s always yammering on about hookers (and METAL – PEPTO LOOOOOOOVES HIM SOME MOTHERFUCKING METAL). One of the other chimps decided it would be fun to allude to the fact that Pepto seems to have a predilection for transsexual Ladies O’ The Night. Pepto responded with this nugget:

“WHATEVER – ALL OF THE TRANNY HOOKERS ARE BLACK OR LATINO! THEY DEAL DRUGS OUT OF THEIR ASSHOLES. EVERYBODY KNOWS THAT, YOU DUMBASSES!”

Need I say a word about that one? I didn’t think so…

3) Pepto cares a lot about ROCK AND MOTHERFUCKING ROLL. On multiple occasions, he has found himself in the middle of heated discussions in the workplace about Hip Hop and the assimilation of ROCK AND MOTHERFUCKING ROLL into the lexicon of BEATS. More nugs:

“THEY ALWAYS TAKE OUR FUCKING BEST MUSIC! WHY DID RUN-DMC HAVE TO STEAL FROM AEROSMITH? WE NEED TO TAKE OUR METAL BACK! THIS IS BULLSHIT! FUCKING RAP MUSIC, YOU PEOPLE THINK YOU’RE FUCKING SMART STEALING GOOD RIFFS! OZZY WOULD KICK YOUR ASS FOR STEALING HIS STUFF, YOU MORONS!”


When it was brought to Pepto’s attention that ROCK AND MOTHERFUCKING ROLL actually originated in Afrika (just like all of us, motherfuckers), he was beside himself. And when it was also brought to his attention that Ozzy himself had allowed plenty of Hip Hop artists to sample his work – we hid the razor blades.

Needless to say, I love me some Pepto. He’s kind of like an albino version of Sammy Davis Jr., albeit with both eyes and an inability to croon. Always entertaining, always dedicated to doing his job.


I just hope he never breeds.

And ladies?

Pepto is single and looking*.

*Obviously, his requirements might be out of the realm of my supposed readership – I highly doubt the audience is made up of drug-dealing underage trannies. Oh my fucking god I just threw up in my mouth.

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Filed under fun at work, nuggets of infinite wisdom, Pepto, rock and motherfucking roll, tomfoolery