The crazy guy outdid himself today in being annoying. I preferred it when he was simply walking around brandishing a snake. I'd been spared most of his annoyingness [I don't even think that's a word] by simply not working around him. He was on one side of the row of CNC machines and I was on the other. But today I had to be on the same side as he was.
At first it was simply things like talking too much, which is typical for him. Later it degenerated into farting. Lots of farting. He was lactose intolerant, he said. Even though he didn't need to be anywhere near me, he stayed close to me. And farted. Multiple times. Then he started touching me.
I should point out that I don't like being touched. The only people allowed to touch me are close family, hot girls, doctors, and my barber. All others should keep their hands off me, especially if it's more than a passing touch. No grabbing. No poking. No caressing.
The crazy guy touched me on the back as he ran by. I shrugged it off as an accident and kept on working. Then, as he went by again, he touched my arm. Actually, he squeezed my uninspiring bicep and admired it. Then he asked me if I'd been working out. No, I don't work out, I said. But he kept on yammering about my "guns". The only thing I can figure is that he was confused by me actually wearing a short-sleeve for the first time ever at this job. Or maybe he's just insane. I don't think he was coming on to me, but, honestly, I don't know.
Eventually, he got off the subject of my upper arms, but what he did next made me wish he would go back to admiring my flabby arms.
As I stood at the drill press, working with an aluminum piece, the crazy guy got right up next to me and began dancing. And then, in a high-pitched voice started saying, "Fuck me up the ass! Fuck me up the ass!" He was practically screaming. A few people walked by, but oddly, most paid him no mind.
I was so glad when he disappeared for an hour and a half at lunch. And, strangely, after he got back, he was very well behaved.