Bluetooth. . . or Tourette’s? You decide. . .

So I’m using the restroom at work, and y’know. . .minding my own business as I’m want to do in public places where male genitalia could potentially be exposed. The Guy Code, that sort of thing. Anyhow, I go hurriedly into the restroom, started to do my business in front of the most out of the way, unobtrusive urinal . . .and this dude next to me is like “yeah, yeah. . .ah ha. Beautiful! Very cool!”.

My blood froze for a second as I thought I’d just picked up an admirer until I realized he was not talking to me. In fact, he wasn’t talking to anyone, at least not in the room.

Now, I have to be honest – I broke ‘code’ by looking over at him (NEVER DO THAT!) and saw that he himself was following protocol by looking straight ahead as he apparently discussed things with the voices in his head. Then it hit me. . .the jackass had a Bluetooth headset (earset?) on the far side of his bald pate, where I couldn’t see it. Asshole.

I had to fight off the urge to teach this man the meaning of ‘bitchslap’ as he’d scared the pajezzus out of me for one thing, and he broke ‘The Code’ by talking aloud in the Men’s room. Where other Men might have to talk to him with their. . .stuff out. Never do that.

Tramatized by these events, I finished up, washed my hands (ALWAYS DO THAT, you gross #@!*#&$) and got the hell out of Dodge City. I secretly hoped the damn thing fell off his baby smooth scalp and splashed into the fouled water in front of him. Would serve him right, Asshole.

Later that night, it dawned on me that although Bluetooth’s may be the Devil’s ear-bling, they do offer sufferers of Tourette’s a unique opportunity to resume some normalcy in their lives. No longer ostracized for their potential outbursts, now . . .with the outlay of a few bucks, they can look important and justly aggravated over last week’s sales figures. Not bat-shit crazy, as was the consensus before. . .

In fact, I’m such a fan of this idea, I think I’m going to buy a headset (earset. . .what the fuck ever!) and just wear it around. Oh, the hours I could spend walking the downtown city streets, cat calling the hot chicks and making fart noises at little old ladies! I mean, it could be literally years before someone actually figures out that I have no service plan for the thing!

Bluetooth, I call thee Carte Blanche`.

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One Response to “Bluetooth. . . or Tourette’s? You decide. . .”

  1. COD says:

    When I working in downtown DC I observed that the only thing separating the self important blow hards talking via bluetooth and the crazy homeless guys talking to themselves was, um, where was I going with this again?

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