Someone's getting incense for their birthday
When I was in high school, I worked at a pharmacy, which was sweet. I learned (a) which of my friends' mothers were on antidepressants, (b) which of my friends were on birth control, (c) exactly how well Viagra works, and (d) that for the pharmacist, it is illegal to leave the store during your shift, lest the high school pharmacy technician kid take seven hundred class A narcotics and stuff them into his cargo pockets (for example). Which meant that if the pharmacist were a smoker, he or she would have to go smoke in the bathroom, because he or she can't go outside (illegal) and he or she can't just light up in the middle of the Advil aisle of an Eckerd (taboo and also illegal). So my boss was smoking in the bathroom a lot.
As a result, I learned to very easily sniff out a bathroom wherein somebody had just smoked and then spent ten minutes spraying Febreez and lighting matches and washing their hands and just generally trying to disinfect the entire room of all smoke and smoke-related smells. I also learned this in my college dorms. It's kind a sweet, lemon-y, very subtle Camel Light/Pledge/whatever-kind-of-hand-soap-is-around smell. And I'm not against the smell of cigarettes - when you catch me in the right mood I would say that cigarette smoke smells absolutely wonderful - but I am very much against the smell of paltry attempts at de-smoking a recently smoked-in bathroom. I should mention, though, that I love the smell of Nag-Champa, which to most people makes me a rasta.
Which is why I'm kind of annoyed that the coworker whom I have spent the past month training in the ways of Ryan At Work - I'm annoyed that he keeps taking little one-hitter hits of weed in our bathroom, and then tries to cover it up. It only barely bothers me that he's getting all high at work, because that's retarded and by association makes HIM retarded, and it really bothers me that I even care that he's getting all high at work, because it makes me feel old, and shouldn't I have better things to worry about while at work? But what REALLY bothers me is that whenever I have to take a piss I have to deal with his half-assed attempts at masking the smell of what I would pretty confidently call shit, middle-school weed.
As a result, I learned to very easily sniff out a bathroom wherein somebody had just smoked and then spent ten minutes spraying Febreez and lighting matches and washing their hands and just generally trying to disinfect the entire room of all smoke and smoke-related smells. I also learned this in my college dorms. It's kind a sweet, lemon-y, very subtle Camel Light/Pledge/whatever-kind-of-hand-soap-is-around smell. And I'm not against the smell of cigarettes - when you catch me in the right mood I would say that cigarette smoke smells absolutely wonderful - but I am very much against the smell of paltry attempts at de-smoking a recently smoked-in bathroom. I should mention, though, that I love the smell of Nag-Champa, which to most people makes me a rasta.
Which is why I'm kind of annoyed that the coworker whom I have spent the past month training in the ways of Ryan At Work - I'm annoyed that he keeps taking little one-hitter hits of weed in our bathroom, and then tries to cover it up. It only barely bothers me that he's getting all high at work, because that's retarded and by association makes HIM retarded, and it really bothers me that I even care that he's getting all high at work, because it makes me feel old, and shouldn't I have better things to worry about while at work? But what REALLY bothers me is that whenever I have to take a piss I have to deal with his half-assed attempts at masking the smell of what I would pretty confidently call shit, middle-school weed.
posted by Ryan at 15:18
10 Comments:
shit, middle-school weed
It was pointed out to me by a chronic abuser some years ago, that it is way way more practical on a number of axes for someone who smokes frequently to smoke low-potency bud. I have chosen the path of infrequent but intense sessions.
This comment has been removed by the author.
This comment has been removed by the author.
(First off, sorry for the deleted comments, bad connection adds to multiple f#-ups)
I think you should figure out his schedule and then leave vague notes of accusation in the bathroom like
"I know what you're doing"
or
"Your paranoia is present in the wine"
or
"Oregeno gets me higher than your crap"
or just point him towards your blog. Either way, he'll get discovered eventually so you might as well have fun while you're still there.
MB, this probably wasn't the most-appropriate thread for your commenting-while-high experiment.
(Also: you spelled oregano correctly in one of the comments you deleted.)
Hey by the way did you catch the news, that reefer will drive you insane? I read it in the newspaper.
(Also it is just occurring to me that your new co-worker could have some interesting conversatins with your boss.)
And do other people have more sensitive noses than I, that they can determine the quality of some product just by smelling the masked residue of its smoke? I have only ever been able to judge it by sampling.
so how well does viagra work?
-dijon bray
Oh noes, I guess my parenthetical observation would only work if Stanley and Ryan share a place of employment and a department, neither of which have they ever given me cause to believe is true.
I really dig nag champa.
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