Blonde’s thread got me thinking about co-worker antics, so I decided to start this thread.
George and Rene are a couple of Hispanic guys at work. George will be 67 in just over a week, and Rene just turned 59. Their cubicles are adjoining, and you should hear the stuff that flies over the partition. Rene makes age-related jokes, and George counters with fat jokes.
“Hey George, have you been to Italy?”
“Yes. Why?”
“They found the oldest human footprints preserved in volcanic ash there.”
“Hey Rene, you there?”
“Yeah…”
“Okay. They found a huge blob floating in the ocean off of South America, and I thought it might have been you.”
Yeah, they’re mean to each other; but they’re having a good time.
Rene loves to alter photos. He found a picture of a severely obese kid who was dressed only in a bathing suit, and put a photo of his head on it. I won the “Scariest Costume” award last Halloween. George doctored the photo of me (solarized it and some other things) and printed it off in B&W. Rene framed it and hung it on his wall. He puts embarassing comments on it to coincide with the various holidays. Either that, or he puts “Inmate of Atascadero State Prison” on it.
I’m the Token L.A. Liberal in the office (which is in Orange County – “Behind the Orange Curtain”, or “Reagan Country”) and everyone knows I’m not a fan of George Dubya. Rene put a poster of Bush on the column in my office and signed it as if Dubya was wishing me a happy birthday. I cut a big “slashed circle” out of paper, coloured it red, and taped it over Bush’s face. (And lowered the poster to a less-prominent height.)
George is infamous for his sexual innuendos and love of bathroom humour. Ironically, the one person who was out the day we had a sexual harrassment lecture was George – perhaps the only person in the office who needed to be there! Anyway, the slightest little thing will get him laughing so hard he wheezes. He’s a hoot.
For a couple of days he wore too much cologne. Someone said that it smelled like Old Spice. A woman in the office said, “More like Old Goat!”
When the Santa Anas were blowing, dust made its way into the ventilation system. I said, “Do you smell dust?” “Yeah,” says Rene. “Hm. George must’ve farted.” (Actually, I don’t make age- or fat-jokes very often at George’s and Rene’s expense… but I’m not above instigating. 
)
Me? I try to come up with the stupidest jokes I can. I know I’ve succeeded when I get, “What’s wrong with you?” 
(The latest one I dug up was from On the Air, a short-lived television series by David Lynch. "Did you hear about the one-armed fisherman? [Holding out one hand.] He caught a fish this big.)