Phoow, we've all felt this way before...
So, this came to my attention via
damnportlanders, which got there thanks to craigslist.
Thanks a lot! Since working with you for nearly two years has been so painfully excruciating and since I am now no longer employed, I thought I would convey to you how bad it is/was to work with you. While all of the following certainly does not list all of the repulsive aspects of our days together...I did try to highlight the best parts.
#1 EARLY MORNING: I do not claim to be a mechanic, but when you pull into the parking garage with your car screaming and moaning like a woman giving birth, Well, even I know something is wrong. I can hear you coming a mile away. In case you didn't notice, noise is amplified by about 9000 percent in a parking garage. BTW, what is that rattletrap contraption you drive anyway? I can discern that the front part is an older model Datsun, but what exactly is the back for? Is that homemade flatbed and running boards really necessary? What do you haul in that thing anyway? Probably your groceries. In case you haven't noticed (everyone else has/does) your Ass is the size of China. Seriously!!! That thing has a life of its own. Inevitably, after you pull up and you pretty much roll out of your car (I feel silly even calling it that)you always, ALWAYS have to comment on my outfit. **HINT** there isn't much of a selection in the Elephant Xtra-Large department. How much yardage does it take to cover that ass anyway?
#2 MIDMORNING: Considering that only you and I work in the office and I have NEVER purchased anything from her, it only stands to reason that when Muffin/Snack Lady comes in, it's a sure bet that she's there to see you. Everyday you tell me you're going to Curves. Well guess what sweetie, Curves isn't going to do a damn thing for you if you wolf down 2000,00000 calories a day. But do you get the clue? Hell, no. You buy that muffin/carrot cake/bag of m&ms and then practically break your neck getting back to your desk to eat it. I've seen you pork down a muffin lickety fucking split. Hell, the muffin lady is barely out the door and you're finished. Then you wash it all down with that green shit you call a protein drink in that grimy Tupperware bottle. You slurp on that crap ALL DAY LONG. I think that is why you smell so bad. I remember last summer when the air conditioning went out...that crap sat on your desk all day long FERMENTING. When you took a swig at the end of the day, I almost passed out from disgust.
#3 THE COPY MACHINE: This issue really fires me up. Listen here. It is YOUR job to make copies, NOT MINE. When the copy machine starts blinking and beeping what do you do? You snail trail it over to the machine and FLIP out, punching buttons, jiggling that ass of yours around, muttering like a deranged moose. Here's another **HINT** Copy machines run out of paper. I've only had to tell you this about 11,000 times. Check the paper tray, DUMBSHIT.
#4 LUNCHTIME: Another painful time of day. It used to be not so bad when the gas prices weren't so high and I could escape you for an hour. Not anymore. I have to listen to every bit of information about your dog, your mother, and that creepy husband of yours. Let me tell you something about your "perfect" husband. I met that little TrollPerv at the Christmas Party. SWEET JESUS. While you were (presumably lowering that quivering mass of an ass of your on some toilet seat) your husband proceeded to pretty much molest me. He is so nasty. Judging from that cocktail shrimp he had in his pants, I am sure a fuck session between the two of you is similar to throwing a hotdog down a hallway. UGGGGGGG. I had to go home and drink heavily just to erase the memory of the evening. Also, can't you just bring a normal PB&J or a ham sandwich for lunch? Hell NO. You have to bring some freaky crap in yet another grubby Tupperware container and nuke it in the microwave, thus making the whole office smell like the gorilla exhibit at the zoo for the rest of the afternoon. THANKS.
#5 THE MAILMAN: Let's just get this straight right now. The mailman is TERRIFIED of you and your ass. Seriously, the reason he is always so fertive when he comes in here is because he is afraid you will attack him (or that entity of an ass of yours will). You're comments of "Boy, he sure is in a bad mood" or "He sure didn't have much to say today" are so pathetic. Just let him deliver the mail. He doesn't want to listen to you.
#6 LATE AFTERNOON: Here we go again, you blathering on about how hard you workout at Curves. If I were you I would march down to Curves and DEMAND my money back. Every day, "I'm going to Curves after work" or "Somebody at Curves told me _________________{----insert whatever nonsensical crap you want there. You have been telling me this for almost two years now! You ARE NOT going to Curves. You are probably sitting in the parking lot of the nearest Jack-in-the-Box scarfing down on a #3 and a #6 before you go home. THAT'S the real reason you're sweaty and slightly winded when you get home....all that anticipation of yet another 60,000 calories sliding down your gullet. GROSS.
I could go on and on and on and on about you. Frankly, I don't think there is enough cyberspace to cover it all. Right now I'm a little nauseous from recounting our time together. Suffice it to say that I NEVER EVER have to see you and your Lardass again. HHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAH. By the way, it will probably take you 16 weeks to figure this out, but I unplugged the copy machine.
Your Ex CoWorker
http://portland.craigslist.org/rnr/166719133.html