I Met Famous People And Almost Died. No Biggee.

They sat in these, I assume.

So, the other day I happened to be working on the set of a Lifetime movie that is coming out and it just sort of happened to have a few famous people in it that some of you may or may not know. Like, that asshole gay dude from Glee? Yeah, he was on it. And that asshole drug chick from 90210? Yeah, she was totally on it too.

And it was a pretty wicked experience even though I found out one of the famous people *coughthedudecough* is a massive jerk who openly laughs in the face of special needs kids. Yup, he totally did that. The girl was extremely nice, though. I talked to her when she face planted right in front of me and I figured "Holy shit, she just face planted, this is totally my in to become her Best Friend Forever!" but I totally fucked it up and just awkwardly asked "Are you happy to be back in Canada, because it's pretty nice here." and she just gave me a "Yeah, it's great, so much fun." as she was desperately trying not to show that face planting actually hurt and this asshole crew worker didn't even ask her if she was OK. Because, I totally didn't ask that. Because I'm an asshole.

I got to stand behind the Director and this bitch.

For the first part of the day I got to stand around near the Director and listen to the actors say the same lines over and over again for three hours. I'm pretty sure this Lifetime movie is going to be the shittiest Lifetime movie because 90% of the dialogue is about "Skanks".

I've got to say I was totally fucking bored by the 100th time they went through the same scene and was actively looking for something to stab myself but my Australian Boss kept glaring at me because, well, I guess it was my job to pretend They. Were. The. Best. Actors. EVER!

And in between takes Mr. Glee would circulate around and ignore all the extras that desperately were trying to get his attention and only pay attention to those he deemed "cool" and really, no one was that cool enough for him. He only got close to people when he was forced to take a photo with them. BECAUSE THAT'S HOW THE INDUSTRY WORKS!   
   

OMG, HE'S GLEE FAMOUS! 

 

 

 

 

She fucked up this take soooo bad.

And then my face burned off.

And then I had to sit outside next to some trucks for hours in the sun and then my face almost melted off but I was like "CAN I HAVE SOME MORE SKIN CANCER PLEASE!" because if I complained I would be White-Fanged from the set -- someone would throw rocks at me and yell "Git, GO!" until I ran away howling.

There was also a giant squirrel-cat that kept chasing me around the trucks because I may or may not have thrown rocks in it's home because I was bored and didn't know it lived there, but if I didn't know that it lived there, I would have thrown rocks too. Because they were FUCKING MONSTERS.

And then I got sent home and almost died of heat stroke.

Dr. Butts Will Be My Name & I Will Be A Doctor Of Butts

Lately I've been getting a lot of emails telling me that I could totally become a doctor without having to ever go to school because I can simply pay someone to create me a fake novelty totally real and totally valid and not at all fake doctorate for only fifty dollars. And it's like, "Fuck yeah, that will totally be a deal because why go to school and learn how to save lives when I can pay fifty dollars and probably save some lives but most likely destroy more!" and being able to purchase such a prestigious degree has really made me think about what type of doctor I would be.

Like, I would want my patience to trust that my diploma totally isn't drawn in crayon on a place mat from the local Arby's and feel comfortable enough to tell me all their embarrassing ailments that I totally wont immediately tell the Internet about because if you've got a hot wheels car up your anus you can so bet that I'll call my mom about it.

And perhaps my practice will be handled out of a back alley because the rent is cheaper or out of a small outhouse in Mexico because I'm pretty sure Human Rights Violations don't count if they happen in Mexico.

Or maybe I'll become a plastic surgeon and when people come in looking for botox injections or eye lifts I just turn their faces into giant butts and be all "Oh, I thought you said Bu-ttucks on your face! My bad." and when people come in for Tit Inflation I'll totally put a butt on their chest and be all "Oh, my bad, I thought you wanted an ass on your chest. My bad." and they couldn't do anything about it because I'd be in Mexico.

I could be a Lawyer, if I wanted. I'd be a public defender and drunkenly show up for Night Court and blatantly lie about everything my client may or may not have done but who cares because I'm drunk and it's night court. " It's not his fault he murdered that prostitute, your Honour, he specifically asked for a Julia Roberts Prostitute and they clearly sent him a Meth Addict. It was perfectly reasonable for him to slice her up and hide her in the closet. Who wouldn't?" and so what if he was just fighting a traffic violation and not, actually, a murder trial? And then the client will go to jail for murdering a prostitute that may or may not have existed.

Or maybe I'll get a degree in Astronautory just so I could go into space and piss all over the Earth so my urine will rain down on everyone I hate and everyone I don't hate in a golden shower that is totally disguised as normal rain and when it tastes funny when it gets in your mouth? Yeah, that's my pee.

This Post Totally Isn't About How I Got Laid. It's About Bears.

At my place of work that has been an increasing amount of bear sightings and a lot of people are saying that it's probably because all summer the forest was burning like fire was going out of style and everyone needed it right now because soon the world would be fire less and it's caused the bears and all the other stupid non-bear animals to migrate to our work site.

Me? I think the bears are staging some type of revolution and are casing the joint to find our weaknesses. It's like, the more they prod and hide in garbage cans waiting to play "Peek-a-boo, I'm a fucking bear going to rip your face off but you don't know that because I'm hiding in the garbage and all you want to do is throw away trash. SURPRISE MOTHAFUDDAH!" and then someone gets mauled. Not me, of course. I don't want to be mauled. Because that'd probably suck really hard and I'm trying to avoid having suckage in my life. And by "suckage" I don't mean "less blow jobs" and by "less blow jobs" I don't mean "I have a dick that needs to be blow jobbed less." Because that'd be fucked. Wouldn't it?

No, what this whole bear thing has made me realize that I needed to realize a life long dream of mine and that life long dream is to ride a fucking bear. Just ride it like a horse and probably coax it to maul people of my choosing. Considering the bears are planning a coupe, it might be hard to trick one into letting me ride it.

So naturally I turned to The Pilot to fix this problem of me not being able to ride a bear and I got all excited when he told me that it could totally be arranged and all I had to do was get home from work to find out what it was.

All day I was excited and telling people that "just you wait, I'm going to ride into work on a bear one day and all you people who I may or may not like the look of your face that day will get mauled. And it will be hilarious.".

And then I got home.

And my reality was destroyed.

When I said "I want to ride a fucking bear" The Pilot totally read "I'm totally getting laid tonight." and then my dreams were shattered and I locked myself in the bathroom and haven't come out since.  Or just had sex with him. Pick which ending makes you happier. The ending where I cried, or the ending where I got laid.

Catikaze

I found out yesterday that I ended up winning some award about a blog that is potentially on fire and might spread fire to other blogs and burn down the whole Internet so I'm not sure if I was supposed to take it as a flattering "your blog is awesome" or a "your blog is a potential hazard to the Internet and firefighters will arrive shortly to hack through your door, destroy your computer and stomp on you until you realize how dangerous your fire blog is.". Needless to say I thought this was totally awesome that my blog might be a potential hazard to the Internet and I'm half contemplating dousing it with gasoline just to see it burn faster until I realized that the rules on the award is saying seven things about yourself and I'm all like, "Fuck it, I'm lazy."

So you know what I'm going to do instead Rachel? Not do it, because I'm lazy. And it'd be hard for my tiny little fingers to type out seven things about myself that others probably wont find interesting and will throw empty beer cans at me because I wasted their time. And you know what you can do with empty beer cans, Rachel? Nothing, because they are empty and the beer is already gone.

Instead, I'm going to tell you all about the time this morning when a small cat used itself as a suicide bomber and tried to take me out.

Yeah, that really happened to me this morning.

My job, that feeds me and clothes me and makes sure I have money for shinny things, has me get up at the stupid hours of 4:00am so I can catch a stinky, old man smelling bus just so I can get to work on time around 6:00am. Yeah, it's that long of a bus ride and yes it literally smells like an old man took a piss on the bus. Every. Dang. Morning.

As I was stumbling out of my apartment building still half asleep to catch the bus that picks up two feet from my apartment I heard this god awful "Meow, meow, meow, mother fucking meow!" from above my head and looked up to see a cat screaming at me. What was it screaming? I don't know. I don't speak fucking cat. It was probably offended that I had thumbs and could punch things and use guns and just decided that it was going to hassle me over it.

I guess the cat didn't like the fact that I was ignoring it's cat-calls and decided it was going to take it's taunting up a notch by throwing itself off the third storey balcony it was screaming at me from. But, I didn't know this until a falling cat landed half a foot in front of me and it looked extremely pissed off that it missed and then took off like a bat up the nearest tree. I was left with a total, did that just fucking happen to me? Did a cat try to bomb me from above and fail?

This is why getting up at ungodly hours is so unhealthy for people. You'll almost get bombed by cats.

Maybe One Day I Will Be The Patron St. Of Kickass.

Me: I'm eating Oatmeal out of a mug like a homeless person. I'm not sure how I feel about this.

Co-worker: I can't believe you just said that.

Me: It's really taught me that homeless people are people too.

Co-worker: Ha ha....

Me: They just don't have a home...but I do. And they don't have money...like I do. They also don't have warm clothes for the winter...like I do.

Co-worker: .....

Me: So, basically they are just poorer, cold, homeless versions of people too. I've learned so much because of Oatmeal.

Co-worker: Every time I talk to you I feel as if I've committed a crime against humanity.

Me: That's normal.

What Is In A Name?

Two months ago a new guy joined my department at work and I'm going to call him "Edwardo" and he's a nice enough guy who is really shy and non-confrontational and really minds his own business and doesn't usually flutter around and socialize with people while interrupting their work to show them a live penguin camera, or accuse them of eating baby kittens, or stealing the innocence from babies and unicorns a like. He doesn't do that but I do.

So you'd think with the amount of socializing I do, "Edwardo" and myself would have grown a giant rapport and are total work Best! Friends! Forever! and do practically everything together (Which we don't). I thought we got along good, you know?

Until yesterday when my whole department were in a meeting and suddenly our boss says, " So 'Edgar', do you have anything to share after your first two months?" and everyone looked really interested in what 'Edgar' had to say and waited with anticipation to hear all about it. Me, on the other hand? I was confused.

Who the fuck was Edgar? Is what I thought.

"Who the heck is Edgar?" is what I said out loud to my group only to have poor, poor 'Edwardo' raise his hand and give me a look as if I had given him a puppy and then took that puppy away only to kick it under the bridge.

Of course my natural reaction to finding out I've been calling this dude the wrong name for two months was to laugh it off and then ignore him for the rest of my career.

The Spirit Of The Buffalo Is Sorta A Dick

Remember the Tilt-a-Whirl? Yes? Everyone loves the Tilt-a-Whirl, right? I say fuck it. Right now I'm sitting in my house clinging to my kitchen table because the world keeps spinning right round baby, right round round and even though I want to spill my guts up all over the place and maybe hit the dog in the face with it, I can't get that stupid song out of my head and it was funny the first time  I mentally sang it but now it's pissing me off and I need help.

The room is all spinny-doo and I can't make it stop and when I told The Pilot last night that he's got to take care of me because if I throw up all I do is hysterically cry and project like Linda Blair and that it was his job to pretend to be my mom by cleaning it up and being my life long slave until I stop vomiting. His solution was promptly giving me a mop bucket to vomit it and huddle himself in the corner of the bed and pretend I wasn't there.

And as I was lying there, it suddenly hit me as to why I was feeling so sick and gross and you know what I found out? The Spirit of the Buffalo is sort of a dick. A giant dick.

I know they were hunted close to extinction once by Settlers and possibly my ancestors and yeah, I know, that was totally an asshole move but they couldn't help it that Buffalo were tasty back then. So, as I see it, I shouldn't be punished when I get to eat a Buffalo burger at work the other day because we were celebrating some type of national day and they were handing out Buffalo meat filled things like they were going out of style. And I love meat -- even more so meat that was once close to being extinction.

It was a delicious burger and I bragged all about how I was going to single handed bring back the extinction of Buffalo because they were so god damn tasty and the Buffalo Spirit is all "Bitch, pleaaassseee!" and gave me food poisoning.

Asshole Spirit. If you weren't a spirit I'd eat you too.

So now I am stuck at home feeling like crap with a boyfriend who is on Vomit-Alert-Five and is prepared to jump off the balcony to avoid vomit clean up and a dog who thinks it's totally awesome super fun to spin around in circles in front of me at high speed as if he is laughing at me and showing off his superior spin skills.

He's probably friends with that asshole buffalo.

Motherhood Skills, Awesome?

Me: I'm going to have my kids knowing french from Toddlerhood, it's easier for them to learn at that age.

Co-Worker: Maybe I will teach a dog and a monkey Japanese.

Me: You are going to teach your dog Japanese?

CW: hahaahhaahhah, yessssss

Me: I'm also going to do that Baby Sign Language

CW: you are going to be a fab mom. can you be my mom?

Me: Yes, I can be your mom.

CW: yayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Me: Now learn baby sign language or I'm going to cut you.

CW: mommm you are such a whore, daddy told me to tell you that

Me: Yeah, well you've ruined my life! Having to raise you and let my life go by! I wish I late termed aborted you

CW: mom but you cant its too late. I will ruin your life even moreee

Me: That's why it is my life's most bitter regret, that I didn't have the doctor scrape  your face out of my hypothetical cooter

CW: omgggggggggggggggggggggg! hahahahahahhahahaha. our father who art in heaven......

Me: So maybe you should think twice before mentioning your daddy. Who, might I add, was a dinosaur.

CW: hahahahahahah, daddy said that you have a penis

Me: Man, I would be the worst single mother in the world. lol

CW: hahahahahhahhahahaahhahaha

Me: And yes, I have a bigger penis than your daddy ever did. That's why he left.

CW: how big mom?

Me: Five feet three inches. I've got to tape it around my leg and waist.

CW: hahahhahaahaaaahahaahahaahaha. how did you have me mom?

Me: Outta my butt vagina. It was a difficult birth, for sure.

CW: awww mommmm you are some amazing. how did you get me out of your front butt

Me: It was my back butt dear. My front was taken up by my five foot dink

CW: ohhhh mom I'm confused...I don't know if I have a front butt of a backbutt

Me: I can't help you on that. I never checked, ever. I pretended those parts didn't exist.

CW: how did you bathe me, didn't you change my pampers?

Me: I hosed you out back in your clothes. Or threw you in the washing machine

CW: mommmmmmmmmmm you are funny now tell the truth do I have any brothers and sisters

Me: I wont lie to you Tatatink (Your real name), you did have siblings. Three of them. But it was a cold hard winter and they died. I forgot them outside after their bath. That's why I washed you in the washing machine in the winter. So it never happened again. Ever.

Me: Took me three winters to learn my lesson.

Me: That's why you were born. Because your three older siblings died.

CW: lolololololololol

The Power Of Science Makes Me A Dick; Meth Makes Me A Genius.

Co-Worker: Omg! Did you know that many states in the USA it is legal to marry your first cousin and only legal in one state for gays to get married? Insane!

Me: My first cousins are doorknobs, I won’t marry them. Did you know in the Appalachian Mountains you can be your own Grandpa?

Co-Worker: That is sick, my cousins and I are as close as my bros and sister.

Me: In some countries they can marry as long as they can't have kids.

Co-Worker: Wwww, I don’t think that is right unless our earth needs to be populated and that is surely not the case, we are over populated.

Me: We are highly under populated so that's why I am going to force you to have twenty children that will have twenty children

that will have fifty children.

Co-Worker: Hahahahaahahahahhahaa

Me: Like that Alien Queen from Aliens.

Co-Worker: I don’t even want one.

Me: You will shit 'em out like ants.

Me: From your butt.

Co-Worker: hahahahahhahahaah, grossss

Me: and you will develope a mouth within a mouth.

Me: and be BFF's with Sigorny Weaver.

Co-Worker: oh lorddddddd

Me: Or Frenemies

Co-Worker: lolololol, what an imagination you have!

Me: Basically I'm going to recreate those movies with you as the test subject.

Me: with the power of SCIENCE!.

Me: And meth.

Me: Lots and lots of meth.

I Bet My Plane Will Change It's Mind & Crash Itself Because It Doesn't Want To Fly Anymore Too

You know, I had big plans for this week on this blog and it basically all revolved around re-telling stories that happened at my parents cabin while I was on vacation and boy-howdy are they some fantastic stories that would have knocked your socks off but then work had to do something that totally knocked my socks off and not in a good way and all my plans went out that window.

Well, sort of out the window. I sit in a cubicle so I don’t really have windows.

After spending my first day back at work yesterday after being on vacation I go through my 300 or so emails and find all these confusing emails that basically tell me that I have to have my ass sitting on a plane seat June 1^st on my way to Calgary, Alberta for training. Oh, and I’ve got to do a lot of pre-work to be prepared for this training. Awesome!

But then, as soon as I get excited that I’m going to Calgary, bitches, a flurry of activity happens and the powers that be decided that No, I’m not going to Calgary and if my ass in on that plane that has already been paid for and tickets have already been booked then somebody is going to get their backdoor busted in.

But wait! Shortly after that is said I’m told that I better be on that plane and have everything ready because I am going to Calgary but before I can even get my head around that I’m suddenly not going to Calgary and I should just turf any effort I put into being prepared for this training.

But wait! Before I can even think about not doing any of the pre-work, I am told that yes I’m going to Calgary and that’s the last thing ever being said about it and hey, guess what? In two weeks I Get! To! Go! Back!

It was as if my work was suffering from Bi-Polar disorder and couldn’t make up it’s mind about what it wanted and now suddenly I guess I am going to Calgary and for another day my re-telling of those really funny stories that will totally rock your socks off will have to be put on hold until sometime tomorrow, but hey, for consolation here is a picture of me rocking the worlds’ hottest beard.

Wizarding Whores

Me:  Do you know how silly putty was first made?

Co-Worker:  how how?

Me:  It was the residue that was left over after latex condoms are made.

Co-Worker: I love putty!

Me:  That makes you a whore.

Co-Worker:  you are a wizard whore.

Me:  Correction, My wizard grandmother is a wizard whore. I don't follow in dem dar shoes.

Co-Worker:  whether you choose to like it or not, you are a decendent of a whore so that makes you a whore.

Me:  Yeah, and you were born from a whore sandwich that a whore whorishly gagged up.

Co-Worker:  hahhahaahhahahahahahahahaha....

Me:  So thar.

And Then They All Had Sex After The Meeting.

The one thing I hate about my profession is the fact that I’ve got to attend meetings that seem like they are never ending and I’m forced to not nap and suddenly take some type of passing interesting because, guess what? I’ve got to take notes and make sure other people know what the hell is going on when I barely know what is going on!

I’m not sure if it’s from the case of ADHD I suddenly develop when it comes to sitting in a meeting or the fact that I’m 99.99% sure that every morning I might snort a buckets’ worth of cocaine and while it infuses me with a thousand pounds of energy I just damage the part of my brain that forgets that I snorted a shitwick of cocaine that I can’t sit still in these meetings. If I sit still I get tired and want to fall asleep. So I shift around a lot. And try to entertain myself.

Unfortunately there isn’t a lot to do to entertain myself in meeting and my mind begins to wander and sometimes I’m afraid of where my mind takes me when I’m bored but other times it’s cool but mostly just awkward like it was today.

 While in my meeting I came to the sudden realization that the other people in the meeting room had, at one point in their lives (or if they didn’t I’m pretty sure that means they fail at life because they are all five times older than I am), had sex with someone before and that technically means at one point in time all their faces were scrunched and gross during sex. Like, at one point they squirted things and their face went “ugggnrrrgguuughhhgurggh” and made a mess.

And then I realized I was thinking of old people having sex and totally almost vomited in my mouth and could not bring myself to look any of them in the eye because it was awkward but except the really old dude who I wanted to high-five because if he was still having sex I’m pretty sure that would make it some type of miracle that he had enough juice to squirt.

I also hate realizing that by thinking of the other people and their sperm faces I totally forgot to  write down any type of useful notes that wouldn’t help anyone accomplish anything.

I’m still confused as to why they continue to pay me every week.

I Should Have Paid More Attention In Sensitivity Training

Co-Worker: WOW

Me: What?

Co-Worker: Old Worker is odd!

Me: why?

Co-Worker:  He Just is.

Me:because he's going to corner you one day and then wear your face?

Co-Worker: Probably, he seems like the serial killer type.

Me: and then he will win best you lookalike contest

Co-Worker:  ....

Me: and probably get like 10 bucks because that's what that contest would be worth and then he'd be all in prison and at group therapy he'd be "I can't believe I killed someone for ten measly dollars" and then cry. he's pretty much that odd

Co-Worker: Ya, pretty much. I can't believe he's a trainer.

Me: they should do a "will you potentially kill your co-workers" test before hiring anyone.

Co-Worker: i cant imagine how awkward that training session would go...

Me: I'm sure those training sessions end with the HR lady holding a doll and saying "Show us where the bad man trained you" sort of dealio. So I would say pretty awesome.

Unicorns: Judgemental Asshole Prudes

There is nothing that causes more pressure then opening blogger to create a new blog post only to stare at the screen for thirty minutes while your brain epically farts all over itself and refuses to come up with something witty or funny enough to actually write down and share with the world so instead you eventually break down and start writing about how you can’t write anything funny.

I can literally feel the pressure of writing something funny crushing me from the ground up because that’s the type of topsy turvy world I live in. Where everything gets crushed from the ground up.

I’d also like to live in a world where Unicorn were real because then I’d be able to ride them all day long and when they totally call me out for not being a virginal virgin  I could punch them in the face and be the very first person to start the Unicorn Horn Underground Black Market where I sell their horns to horny, old men with floppy wieners as an aphrodisiac and the new fantastical replacement for Viagra.

I’d single handedly be the cause of the near extinction of Unicorns because they are assholes and maybe, eventually they will decide that evolution screwed them by giving them mythical hooves instead of mythical fingers with thumbs so they could defend themselves against guns and punches with their own guns and punches. And then they would force grow them with their mind and find guns and then learn how to punch people.

In this world it is almost a given that I’d probably die in an epic gun and punch fight between a pack of rebel Unicorns with fingers and my own army of Black Market Unicorn Poachers who are armed with guns and punches and eventually right before I realize that one of the Unicorns is my son my giant death star blows up their forest and suddenly the Unicorns are being supported by Ewoks and I die in my Unicorn sons mutated hoof-hands after epically saving his life against the evil Emperor who told me to hurt Unicorns in the first place.

And then the Ewoks throw a wicked awesome party that I’m not invited too because I’m fucking dead.

Pooping At Work. I Don't Do It.

Taking a doody at work is awkward enough because you never know if someone is going to walk in and look under the bathroom stall and see your shoes and immediately identify you by either saying your name and starting up a conversation and you hope to Baby Jesus that the "plops" don't happen in a lull in conversation or they just simply snicker to themselves and suddenly you're considered the "Work Pooper" and everyone knows that you have no problem dropping that load in a public toilet when, in fact, you really hate going doody in public because it's most likely a sin against evolution and one should only poop in their own toilet because then you can't be judge by the various levels of sound emitting out of your anus.

The only thing that can take the whole "It's awkward to take a dump at work" scenario into the realm of unreal awkwardness is when you finally give in because you really really got to take a doody and you hurry to the bathroom and thankthelorditsemptyandIcantakethisdumpinpeace! And as soon as you drop your drawers and start someone walks into the bathroom and instead of identifying you by your shoes or starting the work nickname "Work Pooper" they do something completely unexpected and just throw their breasts out there and begin to pump milk with a motorized breast pump.

Once you have set your mind to work poop there's no turning back so the only thing you are left to do is either hold it in until you possibly die from the strain or try and time the "plops" to the "sqooosh" of the pump and it's totally awkward because you know the person is letting her tits hang out  and Breast Pumper knows that you are totally trying to take a poop and timing the sounds so her breastyness hides the fact. In which case it becomes awkward for everyone.

And the next thing you know you're sitting in the bathroom for half hour because you're trying to play the "Who will either magestically finish their poop first or who will run out of milk first" game and it's a game you really don't want to play but you also don't want to loose so you wait until the point your ass is kind of getting numb and she finally finishes and leaves and then when you do finish your poop it's not anywhere neaer magestic and bordering on rabbit poop and it's a disappointment you waited that long for such a small pay off.

Then you realize you totaly missed a meeting because you just won The Great Poop Wait Off 2011.

But not that this happened to me or anything. It happened to a friend

Polio: The Reason Why I Shouldn't Work With Other People

(I am selling tickets to our companies 50/50 Draw and I was supposed to pick up my ticket packet last week but was too lazy to walk up the stairs to my Co-workers office to get them. So I IM'd her instead.)

Me: You! I demand you walk down here and bring me those tickets! Ditty mow!

Co-worker: You totally said you'd come get them you weiner!

Me: Yeah, well, I got Polio. In my legs. Because that's what Polio does.

Co-worker: LIES!

Me: Seriously, I'm not lying. Don't be all hatin' and racist against Polio what with all my Polio withered legs.

Co-worker: No. I'm not bringing them.

Me: NOT EVERYONES PARENTS LOVED THEM ENOUGH TO GIVE THEM THE POLIO VACCINE YOU KNOW!

Co-worker: ...

Co-worker: I'll be down in five