From Justin Gawel: Eccentric Dirtbag
Oh poopers, he saw me. He saw me and, accidentally, we made eye contact. Like clockwork every Monday; like blonde, obnoxious twenty-something with Chiclet teeth clockwork. Great, Darren, let’s try to get this over as quick as possible, because I know if I tell you I’m busy you’ll badger me for the rest of the day until I give in even though I’ve said “no” more times than a speaker at a D.A.R.E. assembly. You’re some sort of non-sexual and non-carnivorous predator, Darren—preying on the common courtesy of the other people in the office who have to listen to your god-awful weekend recaps.
Nope, Darren, don’t even act like you think this conversation is a two-way street. You know I don’t have anything to say to you. Just get on with it so I can go back to processing data and eating chicken potpies while I wait, trying to build up the courage to quit this job.
Come on, Darren; even by the low standards you have set for yourself the beginning of this story is horrible. Seriously, please, keep elaborating on how fast you were driving your Nissan X-Terra. Do you really think a tale about you going eighty on the freeway while blasting Papa Roach is interesting to anyone? Anne Frankly, I don’t care, Darren, and I don’t care how many “hilarious” vanity plates you saw or how “totally Death Race” you think you are. Honestly, Darren, you should consider stealing a page out of Hemmingway’s book, so to speak; not on how to improve your storytelling, mind you, but rather for tips for how to commit suicide effectively.
Introspectively, I really hope I wasn’t this desperate for attention when I was his age. If I was like Darren then I suppose it’s poetically just how depressed I am now. Is this Hell; is Hell just hearing the same boring story over and over again? Apologies, world, if that was me twenty years ago, but at least I didn’t have that untrustworthy blonde hair Darren does.
Finally, this narrative is moving on from just being in Darren’s car. Now he’ at some party and talking about drinking, nicknames, and arguments over who should get what nickname. This is just pathetic, even by Darren standards. I really can’t imagine why he thought I would be interested in this; in a sad way this is quite reminiscent to every Christmas present my wife has ever given me. No, wife, I don’t want, yet another, Garfield calendar.
Now trouble is breaking out at this party, apparently someone thinks Darren hit a girl. I’ve never been one to jump to conclusions, but based on his blonde hair and puka shell necklace I’d say he’s guilty. I’ve said it before and I say it again, I’d let one thousand guilty men go free before I locked up an innocent man—provided none of the guilty or innocent men in the scenario were wearing puka shell necklaces.
Dammit, it looks like Darren was able to explain the situation to these people. Every week I always identify with the antagonists in Darren’s lack-of adventures. Predictably, this yawn of a yarn is heading in the direction of Darren telling me about some mildly sexual exploits. Here it goes, Darren lowers his voice and leans in as if the information he is telling me could destroy the company if it got into the wrong hands.
Nope, although his tale could destroy the company’s morale and put everyone into a deep depression it could do nothing to damage the company’s financial holdings. You see it was just an anecdote about how he got a squeezer from a girl after he told her he was Jude Law’s younger brother. Darren further illustrated the duped girl as “looking like Mandy Moore, but, like, if Mandy had a droopy lip from being hit in the face.” A depressing account, but far from the fiscally disruptive bombshell his body language tried to sell it as, however, he description reveals he knows what battered girls women look like which further supports my theory that he punches women.
Darren, you make me think workplace violence could be justifiable.
Finally, after three and a half torturous minutes I think he’s wrapping it up. You’re almost there; focus and just take a step towards the door to let him know you’re leaving. You’re almost at the best part of the week: the longest possible time before you’ll have to listen to Darren again.
“Cool story, bro; now I gotta go do work.”
It’s the puka shells, Jake…
Thanks for liking my blog! I like the way you write.
Yes, it’s always the puka shells; they’re a dead giveaway! Thank you for your kind word, I appreciate you visiting.
Anne Frankly?? HAAAAA!! Also, slap Darren, from me please.
Consider him slapped!
Laughed through this whole thing!
Thank you very much, I’m glad that the retelling of Darren’s story was more interesting than the story itself.
I can just picture it. Thanks for the entertainment…(-:
Grazie! I hope the image you pictured wasn’t too depressingly sad.
Ha, ha, ha…no…I was just glad it was you and not me. TGIF!!
This is very witty stuff! So glad to find your blog. Keep on rockin’,
Thanks you, I appreciate the WordPress love. I will try to keep a rockin’ in this free world!
Holà. thanks for popping on over to Mr Oh just now. Your style of writing is really fresh, animated and engaging. Keep up the good work.
Holà. Thanks for popping on over to Mr Oh just now. I think your style of writing is very fresh, animated and engaging. Keep up the goodness.
Awesome and thank you, I appreciate the kindness.
HIlarious! Thanks for stopping by, so I could find yours.
Thank you, I’m glad you liked it!
I knew many Darren-like people when I worked for County Government. They never worked, just spent the whole day collecting a huge salary while bothering everyone. I thank God every day now that I do not have to be around them. Cats are much better. They never talk, just love you.
Cats will always be better than Darrens. I wish the county government fired all the Darrens and hired cats instead.
I decided to fire the county and hire 8 cats to live with me.
Keep on fighting the good fight.
i simply just liked this. i did. it was clean, breezy, funny and it kept me interested. great post; it’s what runs through the heads of people like you who have to work with people like that or people like me who stand in line at the grocery story and have to listen to people like that recount their rage-out at the dry cleaners. brilliant post and thank you for swinging by my blog yesterday. i’ll be back! you poor thing… -m
Thank you for the kind words about the post. Sometimes when life gives you a Darren you’ve just got make fun of him on the Internet behind his back.
Hi,
This was great writing, quick paced, funny and smart. This reminds me of so many times in my life….
I just had to share it on my FB page. Very entertaining,
Sharon
PS Thanks for “liking” my limerick (I was actually just throwing that in for filler while searching through my other writing)…got likes on it though, so guess ya never know….
Keep up the good work. I’ll check back soon. Good luck.
Well, thank you very much. I feel like people enjoy posts more if they’re relatable, so that’s what I was going for. Also, I think this world could use more martini related limericks.
Ugh, every work place has a Darren. Sounds like you’ve mastered the art of getting away at just the right time.
I’m trying to; I’m still a Padawan and not yet a Jedi in that realm.
Ha! I appreciate the Star Wars reference. I’m a Jedi master. You walk (away from your desk) and listen, nod your head. Then you are suddenly in front of the bathroom or that person you needed to ask an important question, anywhere but a corner.
That sounds pretty solid; worst case scenario I’ll just hid out in the cantina bar or run out to Tosche Station to pick up some power converters.
Good job! You made me laugh before coffee.
Radical! Here’s to hoping you enjoyed your coffee sans Darrens.
Anne Frankly! Noooo! hahahaha
In the Jewish remake of “Gone With the Wind” the last line is actually, “Anne Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”
Those days when you realize your life is a montonous stream of darrens, none more interesting than the last, in a purgatory that you cant escape. I have those days when all I hear are the charlie brown adult noises, just giving me headaches. The sad thing is all I have for company are numerous darrens that constantly tell stories abouthow drunk they got last weekend…
Yeah, you really can only hear the same “oh, we got so wasted” story so many times before they stop being endearing and start being sad. Here’s to less Darrens in the year 2013.