Look, Buddy. I get it. You hate that you've spent your whole life at this crappy dead-end job and that coming to work everyday is like choosing to sit through High School Musical again, even though you know how it ends and you totally wish Troy* would just go ahead and come out of the closet because a boy who loves singing more than basketball? Pffft! Pouf.
Yeah. Your life is totally like that scenario I know nothing about.
And I get that maybe you were kicked in the head by a mule or whatever the fuck you guys did for fun in the old-timey days, but that is no excuse for your behavior. Anyone who feels the urge to say "Are you having fun yet?" to me every single fucking time they walk past, deserves to have unspeakable horrors rained down upon them. And by "Unspeakable horrors" I mean I should pay Rosie O'Donnell to sit on your face for a week. That is probably in my budget actually. She might even do it for free if I made empty promises about "all the hot dogs you can eat".
To retort... No, I am not having fun yet. You know why. Because I haven't gutted you yet and festooned my bedchamber with your entrails. I know that sounds harsh, but I think it's "tough but fair" like how I only let your mom** out of the steamer truck once a day to bang her.
This came up when I googled "sexy granny". I can't unsee it ever.
Where is the goddamn porn filter when you need it?
Also, while you are at it, do you think maybe you could step it up a little bit. Because stroke or no stroke, you moving that slow seems like passive-aggressive bullshit to me. I don't care what your doctor says or how many times you collapse, we're trying to get some work done here. Maybe just speed it up enough so that you start to see stars and then back off for a few. According to my extensive knowledge of old people, taxing a weak heart is the best thing for it. I imagine yours looks like an old plum that's sat on the counter for too long. But I digress.
In conclusion, now I've sorta had fun, so the answer to your question is "Go fuck yourself!"
Hugs Not Drugs,
* How did I know Zac Efron's character's name was "Troy"? Fucking magic...that's how.
**His mom would be like 1000 years old by now. I would have to bang her real gentle so her glass bones didn't shatter. If I had too hard an orgasm it would probably shoot through her like a cannonball through an old sail.***
***This is all hypothetical. So far.