Clinger

[Massive Quasars]

Somewhat socially inept fellow, clung to me in one of my classes, makes annoying and inapproriate comments during lectures, can't seem to shake him loose. Top it off, the lad seems to be a bit of a loner and not by choice, no surprise there, but that being the case I don't want to hurt the (not so little) bugger's feelings when/if I manage to shake him off.

Can't forget to mention that he asks me rhetorical questions before/during/after lectures, I respond apathetically in kind, and he treats my answers literally and laughingly reassures me that he was not serious or just joking. Strains the nerve after a while.

Your thoughts below.

[I cant spell u]

How did he become attached to you in the first place?

EDIT: I hate it when people comment to me though, when I try to pay attention and be polite in class and at other places and the person won't stfu.

[Massive Quasars]

Came up to me one day, spooked me a bit since he approached me from my blind spot, anyway he began conversing with me out of the blue. I didn't particularly show interest in the line of conversation, but by the next lecture I came to find him sitting beside me (I was seated first), and all classes which followed.

[I cant spell u]

Say you're gay and you want to go out with him, just hope he isn't homosexual himself though.

[Massive Quasars]

EDIT: I hate it when people comment to me though, when I try to pay attention and be polite in class and at other places and the person won't stfu.

I hear you, between a rock and a hard place really, since I don't want to respond and disturb the lecture and yet don't want to leave him hanging and potentially hurt chatty mcgee's feewings.

[Sanction]

Nail gun his fingers to a cross until he passes out.
Take pictures and post them on the internet.
He will embrace his destiny as Internet Jesus and fuck off.

The End. Applause.
Bucket of falling-down water.
Let's away.







Christ I'm reading too much from too many Ellis's :icon3:

[Massive Quasars]

I doubt I have the back for that sort of heavy lifting.

[Sanction]

Leave it on the ground?

[Massive Quasars]

problem solver

[Sanction]

:icon32:

[Guest]

Just tell him that you don't like him and ask him to stop talking to you. Thats what I do.

[Underpants?]

damnit I hate long-winded replies, especially my own.
big sigh and here we go:
Shenk
Several summers ago, actually to be exact, a shade more than seven, I’d slumped down into rock-bottom. College hadn’t panned out as the place of my dreams. To be honest, I’d betrayed myself in certain indulgent pastimes, fornicated with fire, as it were and, well--life fucked back, hard.
Escaping to the Midwest, I tried on a new look, sobriety, and as luck would have it, even sober 18 year olds can’t live for shit without food. So I pitched in as an “Order Selector, Level 1” at a local warehouse.
I’ll add a little lesson detour for those of you blue-collar noobs, everyone else can carry on. In the order selector sector we humped shit weighing anywhere from a few ounces to 150 lbs up about as high as we could reach upon two 4’x4’ birch pallets skewered onto the forks of an electric pallet truck as we whizzed thru a 600,002 square-foot warehouse, slamming the final product into a semi-trailer. The job wasn’t complex by any means but it was physically demanding and required decent 3-dimensional puzzle building skills and some minor concentration, as each order was built differently.
Every young able body in this hayseed town of 40,000 lusted after this rare gem of a 12-dollar an hour job, as it was a great way to stack lean iron on the bones and make enough to pour into a muscle car and a middle-income home. It started out as a joke to me, something that would keep me from dumping shit into my body until the folks came back around with some scholarship funds. Well, that never happened. The latter I mean, they told me to fuck off (in so many words) and spent the cash on themselves. Owned. A decision was forged like a black pearl in me that day to never ask another dime of anyone. A bitter decision at the time but one I will never be unhappy about.
Life for me became suddenly very serious, and this ridiculous job in this ridiculous town gained a towering countenance. My probationary period was nearing an end and on the best day I maybe produced 120 pieces an hour. Some nights I went home seeing double, my back searing, defeated exhaustion knotting and twisting in me, insomnia cursing me, mind bleeding hopeless thoughts of being a complete failure at everything.
The bulk of the lot I ate lunch and enjoyed the occasional brew with pulled a hat trick using a balanced subtlety of patronizing irony, raw humor, edges of which were worn smooth with good Nebraska manners. Those chaps quickly became some of the genuinely best all-around fuckers I’ve ever known, before or since. Still keep in contact with a handful, and am never disappointed by the shared details, funny stories and experiences. In fact, quite the polar opposite of the typical broken architecture of a modern-day hero I encounter lately.
Yep, nearly all of them had mad personality skills. One guy, however, this odd duck named Shawn, was just a hair off his nut, it seemed and kept quiet during ebb but loved to break the conversation flow with somewhat unusual bits of tedium. He wore a 19th-century pageboy haircut, huge steel-toed boots, tight wranglers, and occasionally a bolo (hahaha), to compliment his off-beat social approach. I was one of the few who tried, somewhat successfully, to hold him in conversation. I soon found that the loner sat across what became gradually an otherwise empty bench at lunch from me every day. Rumor had it he’d been beaten a bit by his drunkard of a father, and was himself quite a mean drunk, adept at fighting—though I never personally saw a single act of aggression from him.
The final probationary week approached and the warehouse manager with whom I’d been caustic during my first noncommittal week loaded me down mercilessly. My own wretched demons fucked with me far worse, my errors becoming a joke. Some nights would lead past 2 am as the last wrong picks were rearranged and loaded under the heavy brow of a tired dock foreman. One night as my peers tumbled out into the night air casting good natured shit in my eye, a grim Shawn crept by slowly in an empty pallet truck, uncharacteristically silent. On the second pass, he jumped off, grabbed six of my order stickers and somehow melted, it seemed, between the racks. “Shenk, what the fuck?” I thought. He reappeared holding the items and neatly ordered them into the conical, towering mess that was supposed to be delivered at a fair expense to a waiting vendor later that night.
“Memorize the aisles and use a well-placed cut-through instead of going down a whole aisle for a few things. Set your rectangular items vertically, it keeps them from crushing and you don’t have to balance crap on top of them.”
He spent the next three late nights tutoring me in details only seasoned professionals knew, and soon annoying mannerisms became just part of an act of obscurity. I began to see an intrinsic worth in a guy some perhaps never thought was more interesting than pigeon shit on the old corrugated tin roof we slaved under. I suppose, not because I was an awesome friend but rather, merely because I didn’t flog him down miserably like some kind of shabby stray dog, he saved my job-something I stubbornly nearly broke myself over as some warped kind of fate.
I don’t know where this story’s going but I guess what I’m laying down here is more for my utility than probably anything else. You see, in my experience people are remarkably multifaceted and first or second or even third impressions are as worthless as taking a snapshot from a moving car of a cat pissing on the ground. It’s completely someone’s call someone a tool, to tell him to "get fucked faggot," or whatever but personally, I never (seriously) write anyone off, and it seems that sometimes it's those pain-staking re-takes of the nerve-grinding types that reveal the most rare valuable particulates life subtly buries in the sand of complacency and contempt.
Long story short, this is the very small prop for a simple kid who perhaps never knew the brilliant impression he made on me. The guy deserved far greater than life had to offer, including my meager friendship, I can fucking tell you that.

[Bdw3]

Paragraph form, yo....

[Bdw3]

[lvlshot]http://img76.imageshack.us/img76/987/klinger87zj.jpg[/lvlshot]

[Massive Quasars]

Underpants, a rich and full history summarized there.

I'll comment on the last part with regard to myself. I've been extremely relunctant to burn bridges with even the most incessantly annoying well intentioned individuals I've come across over the years. That reluctance was not calculated for the most part, I simply don't go out of my way to tell off people I don't much take a shine to (to put it mildly). On rare occassions this has benefitted me in unexpected ways, but generally it has caused more annoyance than anything else.

[Massive Quasars]

A subtle approach seems to work though, by the end even the thickest of the bunch seems to realize they're being met with a cold shoulder at every encounter. This seems to rid me of them while also leaving them relatively unperturbed.

[Underpants?]

Underpants, a rich and full history summarized there.

I'll comment on the last part with regard to myself. I've been extremely relunctant to burn bridges with even the most incessantly annoying well intentioned individuals I've come across over the years. That reluctance was not calculated for the most part, I simply don't go out of my way to tell off people I don't much take a shine to (to put it mildly). On rare occassions this has benefitted me in unexpected ways, but generally it has caused more annoyance than anything else.

yeah that sounds alot like my policy, too. Unless they piss me off, to which end I'm all about the "get fucked, faggot" approach.

[phantasmagoria]

I thought this thread was going to be about faeces. I feel robbed

[Massive Quasars]

I feel robbed

Art student.

[Massive Quasars]

Bah, that's not too bad. I'd take a full day of quiet stalkery over a few full extension high fives in class.

[Massive Quasars]

Sadly, that wasn't a hypothetical situation.

[Kaz]

Jesus.

[Massive Quasars]

A regular apprentice of the Kracus school of thought. *sigh*

[Massive Quasars]

I effectively told this chap to stop asking me personal and otherwise irrelevant questions incessantly. I did it in the nicest way I could concieve of given the situation, and the time spent concieving. He was offended, and after a quiet moment he proceeded to frame my personality type as he saw it, then continued his chatter (albeit at a lower level) for the duration of the class.

After class, he continued questioning and sharing his general speculations unperturbed and then proceeded to ask more personal questions which he qualified slightly so as to feign cooperation.

At one point he asked me whether he annoys me, to which I responded sometimes. I figured that would be a sufficient hint without flat out offending him. No luck.

Stay tuned for further developments.

[I cant spell u]

"Today he asked me if I was gay, to which I replied with yes and then I punched him in the face and proceeded with the molestation, pics soon."