You know what I don’t want to bring home from the office? No, I don’t mind bringing a little work with me to finish up at home. As a diligent and dedicated worker bee, I know that the job sometimes calls for that kind of thing. What I don’t want to bring home from work is pestilence and disease. So why the hell do dumbasses bring it to the office with them? That’s right friends, I’m here to tell you about the sick dumbass.

Lately, there’s been a lot of construction going on a The Smartguy’s office. By lately, I mean about the last year or so. While there have been some loud days, most of the time the construction workers do their best to keep the noise down. They understand that they have a job to do, but so do the people in the cubicles all over the building they’re working on. But not today’s dumbass!

Call me weird, but I am not a fan of public bathrooms when it comes to number two. I’ll go number one all day, and where ever it is socially acceptable to do so (social acceptability is not a deal breaker in the right situation), but the same does not apply to number two. I once described it in college as my policy to never drop bombs over foreign soil. If I can avoid having a seat in the bathroom at work, I damn well do it. The whole thing (including seeing others who might use the same stall) makes me a little uncomfortable.

So I’m sitting at my desk, and I hear the guy in the cube to the left of me click on his speaker phone and start dialing. A couple of  beep bop boops later, the phone call connects and begins to ring… Little did I know this was going to lead to the discovery of a new kind of dumbass.

When did the parking lot at work become the Daytona International Speedway? Today I came out of my building, with visions of steak and cheeses dancing in my head, and suddenly I have to dive back into the lobby because some Dale Earnhardt, Jr. wannabe has decided to qualify for the pole position on his way back from his 3:00 PM Red Bull run.