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KRANWEST -> Moron One-Upmanship (A LONG Post) (1/26/2008 9:03:31 AM)
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At some point in the last couple years, I remember reading about an ancient Spartan ritual called the krypteia. Each year, young, hormonal Spartan males, fresh out of warrior finishing school, would declare a mute war on the local Helot population…………… a sort of macabre, “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” coming-of-age ceremony. Think “bar mitzvah”, with a bourbon-y, “Fight-Club” kick.
At work, I can fully empathize with these doomed chattel-slaves of yore……….these poor enslaved lackey bastards with one foot in the grave. My krypteia isn’t as life-threatening as that of the Helot’s, but it does threaten my sense of decency.
There I am, sitting in the employee break area, watching a rerun of Monk (more zoning out than actually paying attention to Tony Shalhoub’s obsessive-compulsive shenanigans) when Misty plops her ugly, haggard-looking ass right down beside me. Fucking shit. I’ve never liked Misty. Most times, ugly girls came compensate for a lackluster appearance by shaping-up with a blue-ribbon personality, but Misty is WAY beyond the reach of even the best self-help guides.
“What’s going on?” Misty asks. I catch a whiff of her halitosis. She never takes care of herself…. even the basic, kindergarten-taught aspects of hygiene seem to go way over her head. I suppose that after Misty reproduced, she just said “Fuck it! My job is done! Time to pig out!” Shit-- that’s probably why her old man ran off with some huge, dimply-assed project whore. Ha.
“I’m doing fine. A little bit tired, Misty, but I’ll make it through”, I reply, giving it the perfunctory, “work sucks but we’re all still smiling” feel I’ve learned to despise when it’s coming from other employees.
“Oh. You think you’re tired? Well I only had two hours of sleep last night!!”
And there it was…………the phenomenon I’ve dubbed as the “Moron One-Upmanship Factor.” She does it all the time, and I hate her for it.
If I could just go one day, without hearing it from some idiot, I’d be fucking ecstatic. I even hear it from my room-mate when I complain about my incapacitating migraines
“You think you hurt? Well I can hardly walk………….my feet hurt so bad!”
I don’t know whether these people crave congratulations, or a stiff kick in the ass – but that, Ladies and Gentleman, is my own krypteia.
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