I Hate You, New Guy Who Sits Next to Me

Location: New York, NY

Well-educated, wear nice shoes to work, living a life of quiet desperation, all that shit.

Wednesday, May 31, 2006


Don't ever refer to your nasal surgery in passing. It's not the sort of thing that one mentions casually, unless you want to see someone casually gag.

Alpha Bravo

When spelling your name, it's not "B as in baseball". You're 42, your favorite sport is yoga, and that's just not cute.


I don't understand how you managed to bring up your move to LA with your doctor's receptionist. And yet, I'm slightly thrilled to think that there might be someone out there who cares about this move even less than I.

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

You're doing it again....

You know, that thing where you talk to me about something I can't even imagine your mother caring about? I don't know how she dealt with you, but to know you now, I'm imagining it involved something highly Oedipal.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006


I'm not saying that you shouldn't wear white pants because it's before Memorial Day. I'm saying you shouldn't wear white pants because they look ridiculous.

Aren't WE the comedian?

When I casually apologize for knocking a post-it off our shared desk, don't say "Oh no! That important post-it? What will I do?" First off, because it would entail you speaking to me. Second, because that's sarcasm, poorly-utilized sarcasm at that, and that is MY fucking domain.


Oh, you just mentioned that your sister is a lawyer, and that she's married. And you're a "perennial bachelor" and part-time freelance hack. Maybe there is justice in the world.


"Artist", my ass. You're an unpublished writer, and an actor without any credits to your name. That title is totally based on your own delusional imagination. That's like me calling myself an entrepreneur or a griffin.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006


In the same way that you get on my nerves when you answer rhetorical questions, it annoys me almost as much when you ask rhetorical questions and expect an answer. You just asked how somebody can give their dog beer and donuts, and then looked at me, expectantly, refusing to turn back to work. So I'm left with a few seconds to decide the best answer that strikes a balance between properly inflating what you're trying to depict as your humanitarian ego (so that you'll let me be), and not requiring me to actually devote any thought to this incredibly fucking stupid question (so that I can live with myself).

I went with "I don't know", and it seemed to work. Thank God for small favors.

Monday, May 22, 2006

East to west

Have you noticed that every single person you ask about whether they've heard that you're moving to California, hasn't? That's because it's not news, and no one cares.

And what makes you think that if they didn't know you were moving 3000 miles away, they'd give even 1/4th of a shit that you're getting a dog?


You were not "talking to a head writer about a job at Guiding Light". You were talking AT a head writer about a job at Guiding Light. Leaving creepy, winding voicemails in a general mailbox that you had to hunt down because he refused to give you any sort of contact information does not constitute a conversation.

I sure as hell do not.

You refer to yourself as a "perennial bachelor", but that usually connotes that it's your own choice. And I have too much faith in my gender to believe that for even a second.


Don't ever, ever, ever, call up your supervisor and let him know you've arrived for the morning (ahem, afternoon) by announcing "The Doctor is in". Unless there's a newly accredited MD program for unemployed, freelance hacks, in which case, my bad.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Happy dance

Kitschy-ironic conversations about Full House and the TGIFriday lineup of the early 90s are NOT OK when they're being had by 42-year-old men. They might not even be legal.


When attending an in-office baby shower for a woman you have never spoken to, and surrounded by an entire group of people who rank higher than you on the corporate and societal totem pole, I would recommend against asking if you "can have a piece with a flower on top". K?

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Tone deaf

Oh, don't mind you, you were just singing?

You know, merely commanding me not to "mind" you isn't really going to be enough. You see that guy at the desk on the other side of me, sitting there quietly? Doesn't even bother me with "good morning" or "good night"? Him, I don't mind.

Begging and Borrowing

Do I have 50 cents you can have? Yes.

Do I have any aspirin? Yes.

Am I going to lie to you and tell you otherwise? Yes.

Haven't you learned how this works yet?


I can tell when you're laughing faking a laugh to seem charming and convivial. I can tell because you always fake laugh at things that weren't meant to be funny in the first place. If you're going to be insincere, at least get the timing right.

Monday, May 15, 2006


When making plans for the weekend (on a Monday???), it's probably not a good idea to tell someone that you "had five things all swirling around in the air, but you were the cheapest option." Unless you're getting a hooker. Which you very well might be.

Thursday, May 11, 2006


If you're going to complain daily about the cost of your salad at the make-your-own salad place, here's a thought- DON'T ADD AS MANY TOPPINGS. It's simple arithmetic.

You could start by leaving off whatever it is that makes the noise like it's engaged in battle when you chew.

Do you want to see a real goofy picture of George Bush?

No. No I don't. Do I seem like the kind of person that stops eating lunch to look at goofy pictures? So don't ask.

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Lightning speed

You just proudly proclaimed that you had finished all of your work in record time today, then swept your jacket up with a flourish and left.

You're paid by the hour, you idiot.

A conversation about trail mix.

Is what you engaged me in today. Thank you for making every other shallow, mundane interaction I have in my life seem all the more interesting.


OK, granted I can only hear one side of it, but no phone conversation should start like this:

HNG: How are you doing?
Other party:
HNG: Did you bury her?
Other party:
HNG: Well, dust to dust, as they say.

The way I see it, there's two answers to your second question:
a. "Yes, in the ground."
b. "No, she's still being refrigerated/embalmed/autopsied."

There have got to be more delicate ways of expressing your condolences. On the other hand, maybe the Other Party has found the easiest and most efficient way of getting off the phone with you, in which case, kudos.

Tuesday, May 09, 2006


Today you're wearing a bright red shirt, which is the color of my anger whenever we converse. If tomorrow you wear a sweater the color of my hatred for the self-importance in your speaking tone, and Thursday, a shirt the color of the impatience I feel whenever I know I have unwittingly entered into a conversation with you, then I think that would be neat, and it would save me a lot of trouble.

Do you ever notice....

that every time you're talking to me, I always end up turning away and typing furiously at my computer as you speak?

Thursday, May 04, 2006


You did not "see that coming" on Lost. No one did. And I know this for a fact, because if you had had some prescient knowledge of Lost, there is no possible way you could have kept your mouth shut until now.

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Wrinkle in time

You don't watch any award shows because you "kinda figure when I get nominated, I'll go". You actually meant this when you said it, completely without jest or sarcasm.

Considering we're living in two completely different realities, mine being bound to the actual world, yours existing in some fantasy plane where the laws of society don't seem to exist, it's kind of incredible that we're able to meet up here at this desk, in this corporate office, at the same time, 3-4 days a week.


A good clue as to whether you're interrupting someone's conversation is that when you begin speaking, the other person's mouth is wide open in an "o" shape in the midst of forming a word, and they have literally had to stop breathing so as not to continue their sentence and cross their words with yours.

Tuesday, May 02, 2006


I can see you staring at me, what with us sitting two feet from each other, and all. I know you want me to ask about something, but the only question popping into my head right now is "Why the fuck are you staring at me?"

Monday, May 01, 2006

It occurs to me...

That you're only here three days a week, meaning you spend the other four days infringing upon someone else's existence. I'm probably not the only person that is writing a blog about you. One woman's "New Guy Who Sits Next to Me" is probably someone else's "Pushy Customer who Asks for Everything Organic" or "Middle-Aged Guy who Approaches me in a Bar and Won't Stop Rattling on About the Wine List".