This guy at work has been saying really creepy things to me and I don’t know how to deal with him. Any advice?
Lady, you ain’t never heard creepy. Once, when I was in about sixth grade, me and my friends were walking to school. We always stopped and picked up this other friend, we’ll call him Victor. So, we get there, and Victor’s still pissing around in the shower, so we gotta hang out in the living room with his dad. Victor’s dad looks sorta like a cross between Grizzly Adams and Jabba the Hut. He’s got a stack of porn on his dresser that requires fucking dewey decimal filing. So, it’s about 7:30 in the morning, and Vince’s dad is PISS DRUNK. He throws a copy of Playboy onto the table and says “HEEEEEEY BOYS, LOOKATDAT!” Now, where I’m from, none of this behavior is that far out of the ordinary. Then he looks off at the sky like he’s about to fill our impressionable young minds with precious wisdom and says “Boys, you know, sometimes I’m cleaning the ladies’ restroom at (fictitious restaurant name to protect the innocent) CARL’S SR., and I’ll find a pubic hair on the toilet, and I’ll stick it up to my nose and jerk off right there.”
So don’t tell me about creepy, lady. They might creep you out, or in Murray’s case, scar you for life, but the reality is that motherfucker is fucked beyond help for life. Find solace in that.
Now leave me the fuck alone.