Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Dear Co-Worker. Alternate Title: "Hey Assh*le"

Dear Old Man Coworker Who Will Probably Die Tomorrow,

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.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Lord of the Flies References and Shit-painting

Maybe it seems like a good idea to you to be forced to go to a company picnic and hang out with 1000 people who you would never, ever in a billion years even say "pardon me!" to if you farted like RIGHT in their face on the bus, but that's where you are wrong because it is NOT a good idea at all. It is the opposite of a good idea. A good idea would be "Tell Kurt he's handsome." or "I think I should totally wrestle my bi-curious friend in oil because I believe in woman's rights, and it is totally within my rights to be sexy." or "There's no way Kurt would've slipped me a roofie even though I told him there's no way I'll have sex with....zzzzzzz!" All those are fantastic ideas. Especially the roofie one, because it's really hard to prove in court turns out. (*makes peace out chest fist bump*)

Also a bad idea is giving the company picnic a theme. Themes are nature's way of saying "You are the worst HR person on the planet and everyone hates you even though you totally gave us a pass on that whole "public masturbation" fiasco a while back." If a themed company picnic was stranded on a desert island with a bunch of other company picnics, the theme one is the one that gets killed by a rock while the other picnics dance around the fire chanting "Kill the Pig! Kill the Pig!"* If a themed company picnic were a tree, it would be the sort of tree that sucks and that I hate.

I think making analogies is my God-given talent.

This would have been a much cooler theme.

Also also a bad idea is to make that themed company picnic's theme be "Hippies." Because "fuck that" and also because dressing a group of people I dislike up as a group of people I despise is practically sending out invitations to a sniping at the bell-tower and then NOT inviting me, but my other sniper friends let it slip accidentally that it's happening because they get a little too drunk and then I get wide eyes looking from person to person during the uncomfortable silence that follows and one sniper-friend is all "Ummmm.." and another sniper-friend looks at his shoes and chugs his beer, and another sniper-friend is all "Maybe your invite got lost in the...." but he trails off when he sees the looks he's getting from the other sniper-friends and you realize that you are the nerd sniper-friend that invites himself to all the cool sniper parties and no one really likes you, so then you leave the party in a huff and find the car of the sniper who's having the bell-tower meeting and you take a shit right on his front seat in protest. And then you go on a three state shooting spree and kill everybody involved. That's EXACTLY what theming the company picnic "Hippies" is like to me.

And sure, maybe they did have a dunk booth for all the managers** to get in and then for a buck you get to try to knock them into the water for charity. But you know what's better than that? Shitting in the front seat of their car while they are in the dunk booth. And writing the words "Burn in Hell" on their dashboard with your feces and then pissing in the glove-box and then running away.

This totally doesn't count as an admission of guilt according to the crack legal team I have in my mind.

*Read a book, knucklehead. ps: Reading is FUN-damental!

** What is this, the State Fair from 19-ought-5? Instead of a dunk booth they should have had a JUNK booth where if somebody hits the plunger the manager gets teabagged by a sweaty hobo. I'd definitely give a dollar to Breast Cancer Research for three chances at that.