As I’m sure you’ve guessed from the title, he’s baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack. It’s hard for me to steer clear of discussing my favorite coworker when he provides such an abundance of wacky material. The biggest reaction I received from the first installation of the “Manuel Files” is, “No f’ing way in HELL that kid and those stories are real.” Well…he is, and they are. Actually, he had made an appearance before but I called him “JIM.” Hopefully this time more than one co-worker will comment and validate that what I’m saying is sadly, very true.
Balls of Trouble: So before my team and I moved over to a new section of our building, we were under the watchful guide of (someone we’ll call) John. About four months ago, John decided to go sky diving and was in a really atrocious accident. While he was gone, we received a new overseer (we’ll call) David. After about three months of being on bed rest, John returned to work to find that things had changed quite substantially. Ordinarily, you may say… “Well of course things changed while he was recovering! It was four months!” John is another really interesting character, whom I could dedicate a whole blog to. But basically…he’s very knowledgeable about what my team and I do, and we found he that became the lesser of two evils over time. David is a smart guy, don’t get me wrong, however…he really doesn’t know what he’s doing when it comes to my team and I. So what’s happened now that John is back, is a tension filled ninja mind game of epic proportions…a sort of proverbial “300” of power struggles ( where I suppose David would be Gerard Butler protecting his small crew, and we’re the hunch back that betrays him and prefers Egypt/John…or whatever).
At this point, it’s a matter of one thinks this and one thinks that and we wind up getting the brunt of most of the situation. Manuel put it a little less eloquently, when he revealed his genius metaphor for what is going on. “Bruh. I’m sayin’…If David is the left thigh, and John is the right thigh, we’re right in the middle, getting jiggled around…ya feel me?” That’s one of Manuel’s trademarked sayings… “ya feel me?” Oftentimes you can hear Alan (another co-worker) screaming… “No! No one “feels ya!!” So after saying this, everyone’s jaw hits the floor as Manuel turns back to his music. After a while of digesting what happened, he turns around and says… “You know what? No homo!”
“Bock Bock, Chicken Chicken…”: So as I said, many people now work in the same room as we do. One of them really hates the new distractions that are created by the incessant laughter generated from the four gentlemen I work with. She’s complained openly before, but always has a tendency to be at the fridge (directly next to Manuel) when something breaks out. Manuel is terrified of her, but manages to always say something outlandish right as she’s walking up. When Manuel is listening to his music, he oftentimes forgets that others can hear him. The following are accounts of what’s happened when Danielle has been at the fridge: While getting super into a song, you can softly hear Manuel singing… “Bend over, bend over, bend over…” Right as he is mid “over” he turns to his right, to find Danielle two feet from him…appalled. The second time this happened, he was talking to the other guys with his back to the fridge. “I got chicks coming in tonight bruh. Two. TWO chic-” Before he could spit out the remainder of his sentence, they guys were laughing and he turns to find Danielle standing behind him. He snaps his head back forward and starts saying… “CHICKENS. I’ve got two…chickens. YES, chickens. Chickens.” Sorry, we didn’t catch that…chickens?
Something Stinks:
A few weeks ago, Manuel was working out on his super awesome weights in his garage ( that he uses to get those rippling biceps he loves to pose shirtless in his Facebook pictures and show off) when he realized that something stinks. Later, he and his cousin found the cause of the problem: a dead possum. He asked his cousin to get some bleach and a garbage bag, along with a pair of gloves and help him clean it up…to which she refused. So, they were in a standoff for about a week until his cousin came to him, begging for him to clean it up because the baby ( the three year old that was slapping him in his sleep) cannot stand the smell. His reply? “So what? The baby doesn’t like the smell?? Either you clean it up or I’m going to cut the baby’s head off!!” Clearly, after being at the garage door and hearing this…it’s safe to say the three year old won’t be slapping him in his sleep anymore! (Frankly, I’d slap him harder). Eventually he cleaned it up, and in her true fashion, the three year old does continue to torment him. Three year old- 5, Mannuel-1.
Office Antics:
When it comes to what he says in the office, it’s always astounding. Again, as I’ve mentioned in the last blog, I can’t defend what he says or really explain where it comes from. He’s a twisted guy… and a bit “touched”…but that’s why we love him.
In regards to phone sex: “I don’t’ get it. Putting your meat on the phone doesn’t make it phone SEX.”
In regards to him cross dressing (we were making fun, he doesn’t really do it…but he wears really tight pants and small Baby Gap shirts): “That’s why I go to Wannado City dressed as Diana Ross…to entertain children!”
After we told him his computer had a NTD (Network Transmitted Disease) because it stopped working: “Shut up! That’s why you’re infected with General Arby’s!” Us: “You mean Genital Herpes?!?”
On music:
(TLC- Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls) “I don’t get it. Why chase waterfalls? I mean, how stupid is that bruh? Where are they going that you’d have to chase them. Whateva. You know right eye? From Destiny’s child?”
Yikes.
(When trying to sing Bob Marley’s, “Turn the Lights Down Low”) “Turn your windowssss low.”
Double Yikes.
(Tupac V. Biggie Smalls)
So the most annoying thing can happen in the office when Manuel and his other Jamaican counterpart get together. Some ask why I come home from work speaking with a Jamaican twang. I bet you’ve never met a white, Jamaican, Jew before…have you? I know…I’m rare. I’m learning through osmosis, as Manuel’s counterpart not only works as a graphic designer, but as a recording artist as well. Interesting, right? This rapper…we’ll call…Pluto…works directly next to me, pumping dance hall songs, making sounds that are sometimes unrecognizable but not any less annoying and just generally being LOUD. If he’s being quiet, you can tell he’s in a bad mood.
ANYWAY!
Manuel’s computer contracted (what we call) a NTD…Network Transmitted Disease. Basically, it broke down and he had to work in the office space next to Pluto. All day they were talking with the, “you no know what you fi meh be talkin bout my youuuuuuut.” Oh you don’t understand it? Fancy that. Finally, after three hours of hearing nonsense through my headphones I asked what the argument was about. Our entire office was involved and beginning them to stop the madness.
Pluto: “This fool tryin to say that Tupac is still alive and he better then Biggie Smalls.”
Manuel: “He raps backwards. But…Tupac is a true poet, you feel me?”
Pluto: “No my yout! I’m a rapper and a poet.”
So they’re arguing over whether rap is a form of poetry, and how poetic both these rappers are. Alan, my co-worker mentioned above, gets wind of this and is instantly riled up. So now, while this debate between Manuel and Pluto is happening, Alan and I are engaged in a whole new piece of debate. Here’s where we stand on this…
Alan: “If rappers are poets, then Maya Angelou is one gangsta ass bitch!”
I agree that some rappers are poets…Common, Mos Def, Erykah Badu…but not Biggie Smalls, not Tupac Shakur, not the Ying Yang Twins…nothing that involves anything referring to:
1. Bitches, Ho’s, or Bitch-Ass-Ho’s
2. Getting shot, shooting people
3. Dealing/Selling/Trapping/ Drugs
4. Bling Blaaaaaang
5. How rough and tough you are when you’re really not from the streets and happened to be a PRISON GUARD prior to your badass rap career ( Rick Ross, I’m talking to YOU)!
6. Any of the combination above makes it exponentially worse!
Alan and I were laughing, thinking about Edgar Allan Poe, or Carl Sandburg writing these words: “The world is one tough ass mofo. Bitches be crazy, tryin’ to get to my paper flow ya hear me?”
THAT…was the holy grail of yikes!
Thanks for tuning in to this installment of…The Manuel Files. More to come, I’m sure!
