Johnny On The Frakkin' Spot

He’s the guy who’s always there when you least expect him to be. He’s the guy who’s always there when you don’t want him to be. He’s the guy who’s always there even after he said he wouldn’t be. He’s frakking Johnny On-The-Spot.

And he’s not even the good kind of on-the-spot. His presence is never timely or necessary. He shows up, shits on people’s joy and leaves. Scheduling your life around this Johnny On-The-Spot is next to impossible. He’s that good at sucking.

Say his daily routine involves waking up at 8 and leaving just before 9AM. I plan my morning to not coincide with his and I awake at 7AM to get a jump start on my day. When I wake up, he’s already in the bathroom, just starting his 35 minute routine in there. The 100+ consecutive days prior to this one where he wasn’t up at this hour matters not, for he is Johnny On-The-Spot. And how about when I come home that night, well ahead of his usual midnight return? There he is, already parked for the night. This requires us swapping out our cars so that he can get out in the morning. That means talking to Johnny On-The-Spot.

What could be worse than living with Johnny On-The-Spot? Talking to Johnny On-The-Spot. You see, JOTS has no social skills. His conversation style lacks panache, eloquence and relevance; he is boring. On top of that, the only time JOTS wants to talk is when he wants to order me around.

“Um, could I talk to you for a second?” is his usual broacher.

Whenever I am approached by Johnny On-The-Spot with this conversation initiater, it is for one of three, or possibly all these, reasons:

• He wants the bathroom cleaned.
• I am being inconsiderate by not properly disposing of/filing the mail that he has brought into the apartment yet failed to sort on his own.
• I am being inconsiderate by not ending all sounds from my room upon his return home in the evenings.

Johnny On-The-Spot will always approach me when I least expect it. If I’ve already cleaned the bathroom, he finds a stray hair that he feels warrants a re-cleaning; whenever he performs an apartment chore, his is the definitive method of accomplishment and it cannot be questioned or otherwise critiqued; his disturbingly low bass voice that wakes me up in the mornings and sometimes keeps me up at night is an acceptable register to vibrate through the apartment; my tenor is not.

I don’t know where Johnny On-The-Spot comes from. I don’t know why he’s the way he is and I don’t care. All I know is that Johnny On-The-Spot is a pain in the ass. He sucks to live with, he sucks to share a wall with, and he just sucks overall.

If there’s a Johnny On-The-Spot in your life, tell me about it in the comments section below.

*****

Something that sucks nearly as bad as JOTS is losing any of your senses. In my case, I’ve lost my senses of taste and smell. I can’t stand it. They’ve slowly been coming back the past day or so, but my smelling power is limited to recognizing there’s a smell around me, but I can’t specifically identify it. It’s an odd feeling to lose your senses. I know I’m not the first, but it’s the first time I’ve ever lost these particular senses. Even when I’ve had sinus problems before, I’ve still been able to smell and taste a little.

My girlfriend says she loses these senses regularly (when she’s sick). Not me. Of course, I fear that there has been permanent damage. Tell me I’m wrong. It’s been 5 days now. Sucks.

*****

I will apologize again for the infrequent posts to the blog. There’s honestly not much that’s riling me up enough to write and my brain has become inundated with TV credits thanks to my new job. Maybe I’ll discuss the job in more detail on Friday. Then again, maybe not.