Flipper the A-Hole

There’s a fat guy at work that I absolutely hate. He’s never really done anything to me, but as soon as I see him waddling down the hall, I get instantly pissed. I don’t know his name. I don’t know where he works. I don’t know what his voice sounds like. Still, I hate him with the fury of 300 leather man-panty-clad Spartans.

I try to say hi or at least smile at everyone I pass while I’m at work, even the Snubbers. There are about a half dozen women that don’t say hi or smile. They always look me up and down, though, as if I come to work dressed like the town whore. For some reason, the fact that they’re at least acknowledging my presence puts them a little lower on my pissy-o-meter than that fat f’er.

Fatty’s short little arms aren’t quite as bad as Boob’s baby t-rex arms were, but at least Boob’s were somewhat proportional to the rest of his teeny little body. Fatty’s dangle down just about to his beltline. He probably never uses his side pockets, because his fingers just barely reach, and he’d have to lean way over to the side to do it (not an easy feat when you’re apple-shaped). Because of his roundness, the arms don’t really lay flat against his sides. They stick out at about a 30 degree angle, which makes me think of flippers on a rude penguin or asshole dolphin.

The thing that pisses me off about him is the blank open-mouthed expression he has when he walks down the hall. He acts like he’s focusing on a point a mile away, and he can’t tear his eyes away from it. He has never once made eye contact, and I pass him at least once or twice a day. If he only acted like that occasionally, I could assume he was just spacing off. I’ve been guilty of that. But if I’m going to totally snub someone without even acknowledging her existence, I’ll at least act like there’s something really interesting on the assembly floor, or on my nails, or on my water bottle. Fatty’s eyes never stray from that invisible point off in the distance.

I don’t totally know why it pisses me off so much, but it really does. I get mad whenever I pass him. I’ve even started to lean close to him when I loudly say hi, but that fat f’er never even glances my way. His mouth never has a different expression. It’s always this gaping half frown. There’s something about that blank stare on that big moon face that just infuriates me.

Update: Josh just read this post and made me feel all guilty. He thinks Fatty (who actually isn't all that fat, but I'm so bitter that it doesn't matter) might just be lonely and shy. I maintain that he's an a-hole.