Boobery, Revisited (part 1)

Some of you just can't seem to get enough of Boob. You know who you are. These little tidbits are dedicated to you.

• At some point, Boob said that he was Jewish. Most Jewish people I know don't wear a gold chain and cross. Either he's lying, or he's so proud of his people killing my Lord and Savior that he wears it as a threat to all Gentiles. It's kind of like the end of Braveheart when the narrator tells us that the king had Wallace's body parts hung up all over the country as a warning. In Boob's case, I'm leaning more towards him being a filthy liar. Oh, and the day we moved out to our new spots in the goddamn customer service area, I made him move my stuff and he was bitching about it because he was going to get his black pants (probably a normal-sized person's capris or bermudas) all dusty when he unhooked my computer. He then went on to tell me that his sons, who will start to figure out what an enormous knob he is in the next few years and grow to resent him, were singing in church choir (not synagogue choir) that night and he wouldn't have time to go change. He was also wearing a ridiculous maroon Cosby sweater with a turtleneck. Well, it could've been a dickey. I wouldn't put it past him.
• How do I know about this cross? Excellent question. Boob tends to leave one too many buttons undone. And no, he doesn't always wear undershirts. It's tough to talk to a guy when you're staring at a shiny gold cross nestled atop a few sparse chest hairs. I wonder if he goes home and blogs about the way I chest talk HIM. The difference is, for me it's like a horrible car wreck that I can't pull my eyes away from, when for him, it's simply because I have a great rack. He's probably used to being eye-level with boobies, so he has to be a connoisseur by now.
  
• My friend Bill pointed out after eating lunch with Boob that a normal utensil looked like a pitchfork in his tiny hand. It was very funny at the time, but when it was my turn to eat with Boob a few days later, it was no longer funny because it turned out to be 100% accurate.
  
• A couple months ago, Boob got this expensive-looking deluxe office chair. When he leans back, his tiny feet don't even come close to touching the floor.
  
• Boob has a Nathan Lane thing going on. When he's trying to look sympathetic or express that there's nothing else he can do about a situation, his eyebrows go to 45 degree angles, he squishes up his mouth, and shrugs. See below for illustration.
  

Change the hair to greasy and spiky, throw on a polo shirt with a pattern that your grandmother's ugliest curtains (make sure to ignore all buttons), and get him to say, "Sssctatisschtical Analysschissch," and you're looking at Boob. Those fortunate enough to have seen the goofy bastard should appreciate the similarities.

That's all I have time for right now. There's plenty more to come.