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Writer's pictureJamie Blaise

Livin' the Dream

"Livin' the dream."

"Wake me up."


People say the oddest things at the ole' factory (I like calling it that because my work stinks and, spoken aloud, it sounds like olfactory). At least, I think they're odd things to say, anyway.


Livin' the dream. At its core, it's a friendly, sarcastic way to say, "Hey, we both know this is not what we thought we were gonna do when we grew up, but here we are." I acknowledge that. A lot of people use that saying in their daily greetings to their fellow coworkers. Where I work, it's a typical hello from a certain couple of guys I see every day. And my answer, which I've always thought was clever, is "Wake me up".


On any given day, I'd pull up to the urinal and quietly go about my business. A voice to my right would ask, "Workin' hard, or hardly workin'?" I'd say "Yup", wash my hands, and skedaddle. If there is going to be discomfort at the urinal, I'd much rather it be on purpose and for laughs. Not just some weird-ass small talk and idioms while I pee.


For instance, a coworker of twenty years walked into the bathroom just ahead of me once. Ty, who sadly died this year (miss you Kitty!), chose my favorite stall. So I had to choose the second best stall, which was right next to his (it's all about the seat, if you must know). As I went through my preparation to sit down on the toilet (I have a ritual, essentially. Do you?), he was already in full swing of getting down to business. I could tell because of the porcelain echo. I don't suppose anyone needs further detail, we all know what we're there for. So, moving on, I sit down for my own business, and I begin to sing. Now this is awkward. And it's supposed to be. Because that's fun for me, for some odd reason. For you older folks, if you remember the chorus for the Disney theme song for Davy Crockett, you'll know the melody in which I sang to my friend Ty:


"Pooping, pooping buddies!

We can cheer each other on!"


This caused two eruptions from my poor, vulnerable pal in the next stall. One was from laughter, and the other was from, well, the other end. It was an interesting combo that caused more laughter from both of us. And a "What the f***?" from the last of the three stalls. I never learned who that was...


"Having fun yet?"

"Fun is a strong word..."


"It's almost Friday."

"That's what the calendar says."


"Morning."

"Yes, it is. Until 12:00, anyway. Then you'll tell me it's afternoon."


"Same shit, different day."

"Yup."


There's one dude who does like to change it up. He's one of the few who I look forward to the strange madness that escapes their lips. He'll say something bizarre, like:


"Hey, Susan (he is actually addressing me). Have the other assholes come through here yet?" I'd look around. He wasn't really looking for an answer though. "You know, I used to manage a small crew at a record making factory. The managers would come by every day and terrorize my guys on the floor. Half of them were hung over from last night at the local strip club, and smelled like sour beer and piss..." I'd never know where one of his stories would lead, but it was usually fascinating.


Another one of the more interesting approaches was from a dude who just recently left for another factory job. His thing was all about R-rated shock value. It was delightfully creative. And wrong. And wonderful.


"Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything for you, my friend!"

"Can you meet me behind the Wendy's dumpster after work? I want to tear your shirt off, pour BBQ sauce all over your right nipple, honey mustard all over your left nipple, and draw a smile on your belly with ketchup, and suck it all off your body with a purple crazy straw."

"Sounds great! I'll meet you there!"


I never knew where he was going to go with his bizarre sexual scenarios. But I did eventually crack the code to his pattern. It usually consisted of a twisted sexual act, a strange location, and always involved food in some way. He's another guy I'll miss. Fortunately he's still alive, and hopefully much happier where he's moved on to.


It's these novel interactions that I enjoy. So don't come to me with your "Beautiful weather, ain't it?" If we're going to speak to one another, let's skip the small talk. Let's dive straight into the bizarre. Because that's where my brain is happiest.


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