MORON CO-WORKERS: It's too early

Hey slappy, your weekend was not interesting enough to come over at 8 a.m. and describe every little detail, loud enough that the whole area could hear.

"We picked up my little boy, and then we had dinner, and then we watched TV..." Corpses had more fun than you this weekend, but they're politely minding their own business this morning. AT least wait until 10 to come back over and mindlessly blabber.

And quit speaking Spanish. The decibel level doubles everytime that you do, and your constant fluctuation between English and Spanish is perplexing. Do you just not know the words, or are you trying to talk about people without them knowing.

MORON CO-WORKERS: Work is Hell-oween

I despise Halloween. The holiday just doesn't appeal to me. Dressing up makes me uncomfortable, as does seeing other adults in goofy costumes. At work some people choose to wear their costumes in on the Friday before Halloween, but fortunately it's optional.

My friend Kevin isn't so lucky.

"At my company, all departments have to get together, decide on a theme, and dress up according to the theme. My department decided on "The Adams Family" as our theme without any input from me. When I asked why I was not consulted on this, I was given an answer that included the phrases "not a team player" and "stick in the mud" and informed that I should show up dressed as Uncle Fester next Friday.

I hate my life."

I'll vouch for the fact that he is "not a team player," but a "stick in the mud"? Okay, maybe he's that, too, but not because he refuses to wear a gay costume. If that's the case, then call me a "stick in the mud," too.

In other Hell-oween news, a Washington state school says that Hell-oween is disrespectful to witches. I think it's merely disrespectful to anyone over the age of eleven.

BAD BLOGGER ALERT: People that never update their blog

f me.

THINGS THAT ANNOY THE PISS OUT OF ME

1. People that punctuate every sentence with "sweetie" or "honey": Can you possibly sound more fake and superficial?

2. The word "awesome": Occasional use doesn't bother too me much, and I even find myself using it (and cringing shortly therafter) from time to time. But it's really a nonsensical word that should be purged from one's vocabulary the second after recieving a high school diploma. What really irks me is when people use it in a professional setting. I have one co-worker that will use it on client/customer calls ("we're making awesome progress," "did you get that report? awesome," "Oh, you're already a customer? awesome, thanks for using us.") It's like Bill and Ted's Excellent Business Adventure.

3. "Did you see the game?" guy: I watch a lot of sports. You might say I watch too much, and that during footballs eason, my life revolves around my favorite team. I freely admit it's a character flaw. So why must people swing by my cube on Monday mornings to ask me whether or not I watched the game? I don't go by theirs on Friday to ask them if they watched Friends, or whatever TV show it is that they use to fill the void in their pathetic lives.

4. "Can't take a hint" guy: Is there really anything worse than some jackhole standing behind you babbling about God know's what when you're trying to catch up on work? They won't go away no matter how seemingly rude you are to them. I'll grunt instead of reply, or I'll refuse to turn around, or I'll start typing an e-mail. Nothing seems to get through to these people. They just keep yakking.

5. "Reply-to-all" guy: I got an e-mail from a friend yesterday. She's on a mission trip to Germany and she sent a message out to all her friends about her trip so far. Five minutes later I get a reply -- from someone I've never met -- detailing her new boyfriend and her weekend and her job and school... loads and loads of crap that I couldn't care less about, but feel compelled to read because it's now in my inbox. The same thing happens with every happy hour e-mail or party invite -- e-mail strings that never end and clutter up your inbox.

I'M AN IDIOT, TOO: The misery of shaving

Shaving sucks.

My facial hair grows fast, but not thick. And the coarse hairs go in every kind of direction, which means I have to shave top-to-bottom, bottom-to-top and side-to-side.

Blech.

I've tried all kinds of shaving creams/gels. The one thing that I've found that I like is the Nivea "goo" that is supposed to go in the Norelco Advantage electric razor. I have one of those, but it sits dormant. Instead I use the little packets to supplement regular Edge gel.

A few days ago I ran out of them. Since I'm too lazy to go to target or Wal-Mart, I found myself needing to shave this morning, but not knowing the best course of action. Then I got a thought: why not use my facial cleanser (don't ask; it might have been a gift, because I seriously don't remember buying it) as a shaving gel. I barely use the stuff, but when I do I always think that it's lubricating enough to make a decent shaving agent.

I could not have been any more wrong.

My face has so many red spots and knicks that I keep thinking someone is going to look at me and wonder if I've caught the Ebola virus. And it burns like a sonofabitch, even with the aftershave lotion that I use. Plus, I have all kinds of stubbly patches everywhere, which are really annoying me.

That marks the first and last time I ever use facial cleanser as a shaving gel. After work I'm going directly to Target and picking up a box of those Nivea packets. They're not that cheap either. When you factor in the cost of razors and those little packets, I spend more on keeping my face hair-free than I do on any other aspect of personal hygeine.

Shaving sucks.

SHUT UP ALREADY: Play the game!

Last night I played Hold'em.

I like Hold'em, and I'm not a bad player. My friends and I jumped on the poker bandwagon not long before it became a nightly programming staple on five different channels, but its trendiness hasn't deterred our interest level.

Our regular poker nights have become infrequent due to people moving away and such, but I still find the occasional game. I enjoy testing my skills against new people, but it comes with an inherent flaw: the new people. Because of Hold'em's surge in popularity, everyone is now an "expert." You sit down to play and the guy next to you starts talking like he's a regular over at Teddy KGB's place. Oh yeah, and not ten minutes goes by without a Rounders reference (which doesn't really bother me, because I love that movie).

ESPN constantly airs the World Series of Poker. It's entertaining, I admit. Some of those guys are characters, and watching them play can be fun. Listening to some douchebag next to me act like he's at the WSoP final table, however, when he's actually at some guy's kitchen table slow-playing a $10 buy-in, is not fun at all.

So a buddy called me around 6 last night to see if I was up for a weekly game he recently started attending. I knew the guy hosting it as a friend of another friend of ours, but of the six others in attendance, half were strangers. Since I had nothing else to do, I figured why not? Let's play some cards.

Now when I first meet people, I generally try to be cordial and not immediately come off as an abrasive asshole. As with many things, not everyone shares my view. Twice last night I had this Vin Diesel look-a-like shit-talk me like he was auditioning to be the next Phil Hellmuth. Twice I took his ass out. I ended up winning the first game and I finished second in the next. On both occaisions, Vin Diesel's stack proved the catalyst I needed to make a move. Net profit for the evening: $40.

Shut up and play the game, jerkoff. And thanks for paying for my Happy Hour tonight.

'THAT GUY' ALERT: Just watch the game!

I went to a football game this weekend and my team won comfortably. Normally that makes for a pleasureable watching experience. Not this time.

Some jerkoff a few rows down from me felt the need to loudly complain about every other play, even when our team had the game clinched. A second-teamer would botch a play late in the fourth quarter, and Lee Corso-wannabe would -- without fail -- turn back toward us and say, "we can't beat the good teams playing this way."

I'm sure that we're all prone to make such observations during intense moments, especially when mass quantities of alcohol are involved. But when the only drama left stems from hoping your bladder holds out until the clock hits zero, then shut up and watch the game.

MORON CO-WORKERS: Fun with bodily functions

So it's Friday afternoon and everyone's taking it a little easy. That's great. No one enjoys slacking off more then I do.

Well maybe the people in the cubes a few rows over do. I'm on the phone earlier and every few seconds I hear roaring laughter coming from that direction. After I hang up, I find out what's causing it.

Fart noises.

Someone has brought in a whoopie cushion or something, and they have spent the past three hours using it. Fart noises are certainly funny in the right context. I laugh at bathroom humor all the time, and like any male, the amusing properties of breaking wind stood constant throughout my ascension from childhood to college to the present day.

But as much as I detest my job, I like to try and pretend that this company has some shred of professionalism. Slacking aside, I do attempt to maintain a particular demeanor during my eight hours of work.

At least I don't have to hear the idiots right now. They've taken their flatulence device to the other side of the room, or so I gather from the faint laughing fits I can detect from over there.

Those are my co-workers for you... putting the F-U-N in "unprofessional."

GENERAL INCOMPETENCE: My poor little niece

My niece, Katherine, started "school" two weeks ago. It's actually daycare, but for a two-year old kid, it's exciting nonetheless. My grandma's church hosts it, and Katherine attends two days a week.

She came home so excited after her first day, because naturally she felt like a big girl. The second day proved just as fun. Last Thursday, however, the third time proved anything but charming.

I got a call from my sister around 2 p.m. Apparently Katherine fell off of a slide and knocked herself out. The school called an ambulance and she ended up in the emergency room with a concussion. Kids get hurt all of the time, right? A few knocks on the head are part of the growing-up experience.

Well not like this, that's for sure.

The details were sketchy at first, because it all happened so quickly and the main priority was Katherine's well-being. Fortunately she appeared okay after a nervous few hours.

Since then we've learned the following:

- The slide in question is six feet tall.
- She was playing on the slide without any direct supervision.
- The school didn't notify my sister until more than an hour after the incident.
- After reporting to the emergency room, no school personnel remained at the hospital.
- No school personnel even inquired about her well-being until much later that evening.
- Today the school attempted to get my sister to sign an accident report full of inconsistencies from their verbal explanation.

How incompetent do you have to be to let a two-year old climb a six-foot slide without careful supervision? Yesterday Katherine had a seizure and fell down again, and now she has to have an MRI tomorrow. My sister's been advised to pursue legal action.

I'm against frivolous lawsuits, but I hope these morons pay through the nose.

MORON CO-WORKERS: Fun with acronyms

You'll find that many of these blog entries will deal with my co-workers. They're easy fodder when it comes to calling out stupidity.

First some background: I work in sales, but it's inside sales. Sure it's mind-numbing work, but it pays well and it will do the trick until I can motivate myself to find a better gig. Some of my colleagues are middle-aged burnouts that will never do anything more fulfilling than this. My cube neighbor fits that description. We'll call her "Ellen."

You know the people that are really dumb, but try to make themselves sound smart? She's one of those people. I just heard heard her on the phone, trying to make herself sound important to whomever was on the other end.

"Oh yes, I know exactly who you need to talk to about that"

(silence)

"Yes"

(silence)

"Right, his name is XXXXXXXXXX, he's the CIO. He handles all of the finance and purchasing."

Fortunately she hung up before she could direct a help-desk question to Accounts Payable.

Welcome to LCD

How about an FAQ for my inagural post:

What is Lowest Common Denominator?

It's a blog specifically designed to help myself cope with the countless number of morons that I encounter daily. These blights on humanity seem to have only one purpose in their failed, wretched lives: annoying sensible, intelligent folks like you and I (though I haven't met you).

No, I mean the name. What does that mean?

If you can read and access a computer, you obviously attended school long enough to cover fractions. I'm not conducting a remedial math course here, so I'm not explaining what an LCD is. Suffice to say, in this context it refers to the morons that plague all of our lives.

That was the best name you could come up with?

Well someone already took Surrounded by Idiots. I would have preferred that URL, but this will work fine. It's already begun to grow on me.

You seem like a bitter guy. You don't get many chicks, do you?

I'm actually hoping that this blog will attract bitter women. No, not really.

Detlef? Is that your real name?

No. But it was my name in high school German class, when we all had to pick German names. My teacher wouldn't let me have Adolph, and merely asking for it resulted in my spending two miserable years in her doghouse. In retrospect I see her point, and a decade later I hold no ill will. But I digress... the name is fitting because those classes had a high concentration of borderline retards. I never understood that. Smart kids don't take shop for an elective. Why did dumb ones take a relatively obscure foreign language?

What can we expect from this blog?

I'm not as bitter and pathetic as Maddox, nor am I a flat-out asshole like Tucker Max. I'm just a regular guy that gets frustrated when stupid people flaunt their stupidity. Expect to see me vent at the same situations, at which you might vent if you were motivated (i.e., annoyed enough) to start a blog.