bakes
I am the Beer God!
What the hell IS that painting? Looks like three Romulan sperm swimming the hell away from that air freshener.
Fantasy Football - Footballguys Forums
This is a sample guest message. Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!
A note to my coworker ... (1 Viewer)
- Thread starter Nigel Tufnel
- Start date
What the hell IS that painting? Looks like three Romulan sperm swimming the hell away from that air freshener.
Thorn
Footballguy
Dear Cubie Next to Me Childless Lady,
I know you are frustrated. I would be too if my man friend often stopped by the office with feathered hair and loafers with no socks. But I must ask that you stop slamming down the phone and shouting that you can't ####### take it anymore. I know that you think my role is to whip around and be your support of some sort, asking what is wrong. That is less likely than your man friend buttoning the top two buttons on his shirt. I will ignore you no matter how many times you slam things or stomp around.
You may have noticed that I almost never get frustrated with my phone calls, so here's a tip: if you didn't start every conversation with our customers with "no, no! you aren't listenting to me! I NEVER SAID THAT!", you might get better results.
Just sayin,
Thorn
I know you are frustrated. I would be too if my man friend often stopped by the office with feathered hair and loafers with no socks. But I must ask that you stop slamming down the phone and shouting that you can't ####### take it anymore. I know that you think my role is to whip around and be your support of some sort, asking what is wrong. That is less likely than your man friend buttoning the top two buttons on his shirt. I will ignore you no matter how many times you slam things or stomp around.
You may have noticed that I almost never get frustrated with my phone calls, so here's a tip: if you didn't start every conversation with our customers with "no, no! you aren't listenting to me! I NEVER SAID THAT!", you might get better results.
Just sayin,
Thorn
I wish I had some sources. WTFaccording to my sources, he's having a nice season, guy.Just imagine if GM ever comes back.
This thread was molded perfectly for GM. Why is he on vacation?
PlayaHata
Footballguy
Dear I/T coworker,
You have been with our company a full 20 years longer than me. You'd think by now that you would be able to do at least some meaningful work on your own. Do you really need to follow me like a puppy on every single client service call?
Our building only has two floors plus a basement. I know you're fat, but is it REALLY necessary to use the elevator to travel down to the 1st floor from the 2nd? I counted and there are only 24 ****ing stairs! I feel like such an idiot when I step out of the elevator and happen to run into someone else because they're obviously thinking "Why didn't he use the stairs?"
You know when you tell me that you'll be leaving at lunchtime on Friday? Just save your breath and only tell me the Fridays that you'll actually be working on Friday afternoon. It only happens about 5 times a year anyway.
Please just retire (or die).
Sincerely,
PlayaHata
You have been with our company a full 20 years longer than me. You'd think by now that you would be able to do at least some meaningful work on your own. Do you really need to follow me like a puppy on every single client service call?
Our building only has two floors plus a basement. I know you're fat, but is it REALLY necessary to use the elevator to travel down to the 1st floor from the 2nd? I counted and there are only 24 ****ing stairs! I feel like such an idiot when I step out of the elevator and happen to run into someone else because they're obviously thinking "Why didn't he use the stairs?"
You know when you tell me that you'll be leaving at lunchtime on Friday? Just save your breath and only tell me the Fridays that you'll actually be working on Friday afternoon. It only happens about 5 times a year anyway.
Please just retire (or die).
Sincerely,
PlayaHata
Thorn
Footballguy
Dear Paranoid:
We are not out to get you. Sure, we don't like you, but we are averse to setting you off and dealing with you all day. So when someone forgets to tell you that there are donuts in the break room, or that we can wear jeans on a particular day, instead of trying to call an office meeting about it or going to your car in the parking lot and crying (yes we see you), here's a thought: let it slide.
Gently,
Thorn
We are not out to get you. Sure, we don't like you, but we are averse to setting you off and dealing with you all day. So when someone forgets to tell you that there are donuts in the break room, or that we can wear jeans on a particular day, instead of trying to call an office meeting about it or going to your car in the parking lot and crying (yes we see you), here's a thought: let it slide.
Gently,
Thorn
Nigel Tufnel
Footballguy
Odd-bodied-troll-like-human:
Why, when you have a question, do I always have to come over to your desk? Get off your ###.
Why, when you have a question, do I always have to come over to your desk? Get off your ###.
Thorn
Footballguy
Dear Fresh Out of College Guy:
I like your style. I think in general, you have a good future. But your emails must stop.
Rule one: no exclamation points. I know you're high energy, and that's good, but averaging 3 per sentence comes off hyper or half-brain dead.
Rule two: use the spell check option. Yes, emails can be less formal, but seriously, "you nowe it"?
Which reminds me, rule three: don't use hip text-messaging abbreviations, ever. You already need to overcome the eager-beaver wet-behind-the-ears image, and "OMG i kno u luv da sox did u c we got diceK" is really not helping. Really.
OMGbye2U,
Thorn
I like your style. I think in general, you have a good future. But your emails must stop.
Rule one: no exclamation points. I know you're high energy, and that's good, but averaging 3 per sentence comes off hyper or half-brain dead.
Rule two: use the spell check option. Yes, emails can be less formal, but seriously, "you nowe it"?
Which reminds me, rule three: don't use hip text-messaging abbreviations, ever. You already need to overcome the eager-beaver wet-behind-the-ears image, and "OMG i kno u luv da sox did u c we got diceK" is really not helping. Really.
OMGbye2U,
Thorn
Shooter McGavin
Down the middle
Shooter McGavin
Down the middle
What the hell for? I thought GM was bulletproof and a very important person here.according to my sources, he's having a nice season, guy.Just imagine if GM ever comes back.
Thorn
Footballguy
Dear Dumb-### Receptionist:
Another thing. The plural of underwear is 'underwear,' not 'underwears.' And no, it is not cute when you tell us that your fatty fat kid (who is a white version of this kid) "leaves little little hershey squirts in his underwears, you know, like skid marks" (yes I know, I know, now shut the #### up!
). I think I might never eat again after hearing you speak. 
Barforama,
Thorn
Another thing. The plural of underwear is 'underwear,' not 'underwears.' And no, it is not cute when you tell us that your fatty fat kid (who is a white version of this kid) "leaves little little hershey squirts in his underwears, you know, like skid marks" (yes I know, I know, now shut the #### up!
). I think I might never eat again after hearing you speak. Barforama,
Thorn
Print Is Dead
Footballguy
Dear entry-level-programmer-guy,
It's really interesting that you took a computer architecture class last year. I took the same class and I have 8 years of experience doing this job. So shut up and stop arguing with me because you don't know ####.
Now go get your freakin' shinebox,
Print Is Dead
It's really interesting that you took a computer architecture class last year. I took the same class and I have 8 years of experience doing this job. So shut up and stop arguing with me because you don't know ####.
Now go get your freakin' shinebox,
Print Is Dead
Thorn
Footballguy
Dear Dream Girl,
What the hell happened? We used to joke and flirt. You were about the only normal person in there. You had a goober for a husband. Then he left you for a fatter and uglier version of Baby Lisa from Dog the Bounty Hunter. I was leaving for grad school; we wouldn't be working together anymore. You were childless and free. I was single. You knew the score.
After a few months away I ask around about you and find out you're engaged to a guy who has four kids and fixes brakes for a living. Then you get knocked up. With twins. You used to be a smartass who liked IPAs, cigars and had a smoking rack. Now you are out on maternity leave and I'm guessing it won't be long before you'll figure out that day care for 5 (5! the majority of which aren't yours!!) will be more expensive than that 35k job we used to work. So you'll stay at home and watch as your world will be about as big as the four walls of a double wide.
I'm getting out this year - to a pretty good paying job. We could have seen the world, had kids in 3 years or 10, your choice. I would have even pretended to care about what a jerk Tony Stewart is for you. What did I miss? Should I have asked you out in those depressed days after hubby left where you were a shell of your former self? Sure didn't seem right at the time.
Chasing Tail These Days,
Thorn
What the hell happened? We used to joke and flirt. You were about the only normal person in there. You had a goober for a husband. Then he left you for a fatter and uglier version of Baby Lisa from Dog the Bounty Hunter. I was leaving for grad school; we wouldn't be working together anymore. You were childless and free. I was single. You knew the score.
After a few months away I ask around about you and find out you're engaged to a guy who has four kids and fixes brakes for a living. Then you get knocked up. With twins. You used to be a smartass who liked IPAs, cigars and had a smoking rack. Now you are out on maternity leave and I'm guessing it won't be long before you'll figure out that day care for 5 (5! the majority of which aren't yours!!) will be more expensive than that 35k job we used to work. So you'll stay at home and watch as your world will be about as big as the four walls of a double wide.
I'm getting out this year - to a pretty good paying job. We could have seen the world, had kids in 3 years or 10, your choice. I would have even pretended to care about what a jerk Tony Stewart is for you. What did I miss? Should I have asked you out in those depressed days after hubby left where you were a shell of your former self? Sure didn't seem right at the time.
Chasing Tail These Days,
Thorn
Running with scissors
Stark Raving Sane
This would have been a great post for freakin Monday.
Koya
Footballguy
Bosses have to fire. Bosses have to make the bottom line work. Bosses have to get rid of deadweight, and sometimes good weight in the interest of the company.I know that people get bitter when their colleagues are let go, but if you hold your weight you stay, or you will find a new place to set up shop. Not sure why you would hold it against your boss for cleaning house so he can make a more productive, efficient and profitable enterprise.Now, if he fails in that endeavor, then you have good reason to gripe.
Thorn
Footballguy
Dear Dumb-### Receptionist,
There is a certain decorum in a workplace. We still have our fun and tell stories, but you need to learn which ones are off-limits for the office, and quite honestly, some of the ones you tell are just off limits, ever. For example, you telling the story of lying in bed with your husband-of-the-month and noticing that he has blackheads on his chest is simply too much for us to take, and I really don't gross out easily. But you really put the
in gross when you further relate that you sometimes squeeze them and smell the resultant spooge. Yes, I know, shocker: it smells real bad.
And you people wonder why I like to have a beer or six at lunch.
Snookered,
Thorn
There is a certain decorum in a workplace. We still have our fun and tell stories, but you need to learn which ones are off-limits for the office, and quite honestly, some of the ones you tell are just off limits, ever. For example, you telling the story of lying in bed with your husband-of-the-month and noticing that he has blackheads on his chest is simply too much for us to take, and I really don't gross out easily. But you really put the
in gross when you further relate that you sometimes squeeze them and smell the resultant spooge. Yes, I know, shocker: it smells real bad.And you people wonder why I like to have a beer or six at lunch.
Snookered,
Thorn
Thorn
Footballguy
For it to be on Monday I would have had to have phrased it as: I lost my dream girl, my nuts are useless to me forever, what shall I do? Instead I focus on the positive - I have my nuts, no knocked up gf, and another weekend to do whatever the #### I want.This would have been a great post for freakin Monday.
Running with scissors
Stark Raving Sane
I'll drink to that.For it to be on Monday I would have had to have phrased it as: I lost my dream girl, my nuts are useless to me forever, what shall I do? Instead I focus on the positive - I have my nuts, no knocked up gf, and another weekend to do whatever the #### I want.This would have been a great post for freakin Monday.
Thorn
Footballguy
Dear Empty Nest Lady,
You and your husband skeeve me out. Big Time. It's cool that you are both still in love, really. But I don't need to know about it, and even less that you still have an active sex life at 55. Please ask him to stop referring you to 'sexy mama' when he calls for you. TIA.
On a (hopefully) unrelated note, let's deal with one other issue. It's delicate, but, here's the thing: you must stop leaving blood on the toilet seat. There, I said it. I get that you're older and maybe tampons aren't your thing, and that it's only actually happened two or three times, but for the love of God, clean up after yourself. It's bad enough you have to announce that you are going home for "lady problems," but see, we only have one toilet in this joint, and we all have to use it from time to time.
You probably don't realize, but there's an entire office procedure around your sloppiness. We had been taking turns, but pretty quickly us workers revolted (and were revolted). The boss refuses to speak to you about it, so now we take turns checking to see if the coast is clear and sending coded emails to each other (yea, we know you read emails over our shoulders). If it isn't, we've been making the walk around the corner to the sandwich shop. Probably didn't dawn on you as odd that the entire staff there knows us and not you even though none of us ever eat there.
Um, and quit using so much foundation. Everyone refuses to touch your phone because it's caked with the stuff. 'preciate it.
And oh yeah, until you work this #### out, you have absolutely no right to laugh at Dumb-### Receptionist. That is all.
Feeling both better and worse,
Thorn
You and your husband skeeve me out. Big Time. It's cool that you are both still in love, really. But I don't need to know about it, and even less that you still have an active sex life at 55. Please ask him to stop referring you to 'sexy mama' when he calls for you. TIA.
On a (hopefully) unrelated note, let's deal with one other issue. It's delicate, but, here's the thing: you must stop leaving blood on the toilet seat. There, I said it. I get that you're older and maybe tampons aren't your thing, and that it's only actually happened two or three times, but for the love of God, clean up after yourself. It's bad enough you have to announce that you are going home for "lady problems," but see, we only have one toilet in this joint, and we all have to use it from time to time.
You probably don't realize, but there's an entire office procedure around your sloppiness. We had been taking turns, but pretty quickly us workers revolted (and were revolted). The boss refuses to speak to you about it, so now we take turns checking to see if the coast is clear and sending coded emails to each other (yea, we know you read emails over our shoulders). If it isn't, we've been making the walk around the corner to the sandwich shop. Probably didn't dawn on you as odd that the entire staff there knows us and not you even though none of us ever eat there.
Um, and quit using so much foundation. Everyone refuses to touch your phone because it's caked with the stuff. 'preciate it.
And oh yeah, until you work this #### out, you have absolutely no right to laugh at Dumb-### Receptionist. That is all.
Feeling both better and worse,
Thorn
perry147
Footballguy
One of the best so far.
Thorn
Footballguy
I'll drink to that.For it to be on Monday I would have had to have phrased it as: I lost my dream girl, my nuts are useless to me forever, what shall I do? Instead I focus on the positive - I have my nuts, no knocked up gf, and another weekend to do whatever the #### I want.This would have been a great post for freakin Monday.
Dear Mr. Mellifluous;
Yes, I know you have done radio with that syrupy smooth voice of yours. Yes, you have kids at home to feed. No, that does not give you permission to:
1: Hang out at work luncheons that you haven't paid for like a vulture, swooping in to steal a hunk of tunafish hero when you think no one is looking then stuffing it into that maw of yours before someone can snatch it back from you;
2: Raid Christmas party spreads like you're some sort of demented Santa who eats the cookies then bolts without leaving Jenny her Bratz doll, loading whatever you can reach into an Eckerd's bag santa sack then wandering off to find the damn chimney, and
3: Look outside, see that it's raining, and then snipe someone's lunch from the refrigerator smorgasbord. Especially that liverwurst and onion sandwich made with liverwurst that I hauled back from Adamstown PA. I was looking forward to that for the entire day. And don't say you didn't take it because you had clearly NOT found the Tic Tacs by the time I confronted you, Mr. Organ Meat And Vidalia Breath. I hope it gave you the runs. There's a cafeteria on the sixth floor - break out the wallet and spend some money or I swear I'll call in to your radio show and ask the listening audience live on the air why you're such a cheapass.
Smooches,
Chrissy.
Yes, I know you have done radio with that syrupy smooth voice of yours. Yes, you have kids at home to feed. No, that does not give you permission to:
1: Hang out at work luncheons that you haven't paid for like a vulture, swooping in to steal a hunk of tunafish hero when you think no one is looking then stuffing it into that maw of yours before someone can snatch it back from you;
2: Raid Christmas party spreads like you're some sort of demented Santa who eats the cookies then bolts without leaving Jenny her Bratz doll, loading whatever you can reach into an Eckerd's bag santa sack then wandering off to find the damn chimney, and
3: Look outside, see that it's raining, and then snipe someone's lunch from the refrigerator smorgasbord. Especially that liverwurst and onion sandwich made with liverwurst that I hauled back from Adamstown PA. I was looking forward to that for the entire day. And don't say you didn't take it because you had clearly NOT found the Tic Tacs by the time I confronted you, Mr. Organ Meat And Vidalia Breath. I hope it gave you the runs. There's a cafeteria on the sixth floor - break out the wallet and spend some money or I swear I'll call in to your radio show and ask the listening audience live on the air why you're such a cheapass.
Smooches,
Chrissy.
Dear Big Head Todd;
I just love the way you walk around giving "atta boys" to the staff. Think we don't hear about you grousing about us when we're out of earshot? Wait, you don't - you're too busy fiddling with your Blackberry during meetings to notice. Good to see that the finances of countless fund subscribers play second fiddle to whoever it is that your emailing with that goofy chuckle on your face. Bottom 20 percent of Morningstar mean anything to you, thunder thumbs?
Of course, that's nothing compared to seeing you walk around the office with that dopey grin on that massive cranium of yours. Some people in the office have torsos smaller than your skull, which is nicely complemented by those "you sure these don't come any bigger?" round glasses. Magnavox has a whole new market for its old CRTs - lop off the ### end and stick a couple in a clearly non-designer frame. Where the hell do you find suits anyway with your 36" shoulders and 46" gut? The Pillsbury Doughboy collection?
Holy hell, I think I just figured it out... immense noggin, round glasses, inane grin, Blackberry at the ready... yep... all that's missing is a pressure gauge and a steam whistle and it's you!!!
Very truly yours,
Count Chocula.
I just love the way you walk around giving "atta boys" to the staff. Think we don't hear about you grousing about us when we're out of earshot? Wait, you don't - you're too busy fiddling with your Blackberry during meetings to notice. Good to see that the finances of countless fund subscribers play second fiddle to whoever it is that your emailing with that goofy chuckle on your face. Bottom 20 percent of Morningstar mean anything to you, thunder thumbs?
Of course, that's nothing compared to seeing you walk around the office with that dopey grin on that massive cranium of yours. Some people in the office have torsos smaller than your skull, which is nicely complemented by those "you sure these don't come any bigger?" round glasses. Magnavox has a whole new market for its old CRTs - lop off the ### end and stick a couple in a clearly non-designer frame. Where the hell do you find suits anyway with your 36" shoulders and 46" gut? The Pillsbury Doughboy collection?
Holy hell, I think I just figured it out... immense noggin, round glasses, inane grin, Blackberry at the ready... yep... all that's missing is a pressure gauge and a steam whistle and it's you!!!
Very truly yours,
Count Chocula.
ChampBailey24
Footballguy
bakes
I am the Beer God!
Bathroom maintenance lady:
Instead of making sure that every single piece or readable material in the stalls, from New York Posts to half-filled-out Sudoku puzzled from last year's Sudoku calendar, is ripped in two and stuffed into the trash so that we are forced into a solitudinous turd, could you check the paper towels so that we can wipe our hands dry without having to walk, hands dripping, to the kitchen area where the spare towels are kept? This is especially important as I work with Sniffles Mahatma who will hang on to that door handle for an hour if we let him. Thank you so much.
Very truly yours,
Clean hands looking for a place to dry themselves.
Instead of making sure that every single piece or readable material in the stalls, from New York Posts to half-filled-out Sudoku puzzled from last year's Sudoku calendar, is ripped in two and stuffed into the trash so that we are forced into a solitudinous turd, could you check the paper towels so that we can wipe our hands dry without having to walk, hands dripping, to the kitchen area where the spare towels are kept? This is especially important as I work with Sniffles Mahatma who will hang on to that door handle for an hour if we let him. Thank you so much.
Very truly yours,
Clean hands looking for a place to dry themselves.
ChampBailey24
Footballguy
bakes
I am the Beer God!
Let me preface this one by stating that, as sure as I'm sitting here, I swear everything in this one is 100% verifiable and true. No ####. I could not make this up if I tried.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear DJ:
I don't know where to begin. But, as someone who spent three years of my life sharing an office with you, I have the following helpful hints:
That thing buried under a foot and a half of paper on the corner of what I hope is your desk is an in-box. Please try to look at what is in there prior to it decomposing. We were looking for a document the other day when you were out and, as the dust flew, I located a semi-important memorandum with a buck slip on it, three of the eight names crossed out. My predecessor's name was on there. Mine wasn't. I started here during the first Bush administration. The one before Clinton.
Underneath it was what appeared to have once been a Cheeto. Or at least I hope it was.
Speaking of food, when someone offers you an Oreo at a Christmas party, it is polite to accept it. It is not polite to start #####ing about how "It's not an Oreo, it's a Hydrox!" #####ing of this sort will result in a lit road flare being handed to you. When someone offers you a lit road flare, it is polite to toss it into the courtyard. It is not polite to drop it and begin stamping it into the linoleum. This will revoke your Hydrox privileges and cause Mikey to have to replace the square of linoleum (see below).
Most humans take about one minute or less to take a squirt, after which they wash their hands, dry themselves, and leave. Please do not stand in front of the urinal for five minutes, jiggling yourself the entire time and talking to yourself in muted "mmmHMMPH!"s and "uhHUH!!"s before walking over to the sink and washing your hands for another 5 minutes before leaving the bathroom. It creeps the hell out of everyone.
Most humans take approximately 5 minutes to take a dump, remaining primarily silent throughout save the occasional satisfied grunt after a particularly large excretion, then use 4 to 6 squares of toilet paper at a time to clean their buttocks. Please do not sit in the stall for ten to fifteen minutes at a time, muttering to yourself all the while, before using a quarter roll of paper at a time, *whumpitawhumpitawhumpita*, to wipe yourself. At least three times. I cannot explain how disheartening that third forty five second *whumpitawhumpitawhumpita* is when one is waiting for the stall. It makes me look at the New York Post with a whole new purpose.
I appreciate that you finally bought yourself a car, and a Mustang GT 5.0 at that. Frankly, seeing your sister waiting for you outside of work every day to drive your 30+ year old butt home every day was creeping us out. That said, when going to lunch, you do not need to walk around your car twice checking for road flares or other damage before getting in, and adjusting your mirrors, and seat (you're the only one driving it - what the hell's that all about?) before starting the motor, letting it warm up 30 seconds, turning on your blinker, and slowly proceeding out of the parking lot to the pizza place 100 yards down the road.
The speed limit is 55. You have a Mustang GT. What's with the 45 in the fast lane with that dopey look on your face?
The food at the company picnic is for everyone. Leftovers go to the fridge for the benefit of everyone the following day. Please don't park yourself and your sister in front of the five pound tray of potato salad and polish that bad boy off, especially when the rest of us are getting drunk. Speaking of which, as we're sitting around the bonfire drinking beer and passing around a bigass box of Mister Salty pretzels, don't jam your hand in there like you're spiking a football. "Sorry" doesn't drain the corn-on-the-cob water out of the box of Mister Soggys.
When Mikey has had a couple at the going away party, don't wave the tablecloth in front of him. He should be replacing that linoleum upstairs instead of fixing that "El Toro" hole in the drywall in the cafeteria. Relax and have a floor buffer ride like the rest of us.
Just because the former boss tossed pencils into the ceiling when frustrated, it does not mean that you have to stand on your desk (where the hell did you find a toe-hold on that office paper Matterhorn? Did you need crampons?) and carefully stick pencils into the ceiling tiles. It's just another thing Mikey has to replace before getting to that linoleum.
When we take you to the exotic dance club for your birthday and hand you a dollar, that is not for you to stick into the change machine and play video games. Just wanted you to know.
B
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear DJ:
I don't know where to begin. But, as someone who spent three years of my life sharing an office with you, I have the following helpful hints:
That thing buried under a foot and a half of paper on the corner of what I hope is your desk is an in-box. Please try to look at what is in there prior to it decomposing. We were looking for a document the other day when you were out and, as the dust flew, I located a semi-important memorandum with a buck slip on it, three of the eight names crossed out. My predecessor's name was on there. Mine wasn't. I started here during the first Bush administration. The one before Clinton.
Underneath it was what appeared to have once been a Cheeto. Or at least I hope it was.
Speaking of food, when someone offers you an Oreo at a Christmas party, it is polite to accept it. It is not polite to start #####ing about how "It's not an Oreo, it's a Hydrox!" #####ing of this sort will result in a lit road flare being handed to you. When someone offers you a lit road flare, it is polite to toss it into the courtyard. It is not polite to drop it and begin stamping it into the linoleum. This will revoke your Hydrox privileges and cause Mikey to have to replace the square of linoleum (see below).
Most humans take about one minute or less to take a squirt, after which they wash their hands, dry themselves, and leave. Please do not stand in front of the urinal for five minutes, jiggling yourself the entire time and talking to yourself in muted "mmmHMMPH!"s and "uhHUH!!"s before walking over to the sink and washing your hands for another 5 minutes before leaving the bathroom. It creeps the hell out of everyone.
Most humans take approximately 5 minutes to take a dump, remaining primarily silent throughout save the occasional satisfied grunt after a particularly large excretion, then use 4 to 6 squares of toilet paper at a time to clean their buttocks. Please do not sit in the stall for ten to fifteen minutes at a time, muttering to yourself all the while, before using a quarter roll of paper at a time, *whumpitawhumpitawhumpita*, to wipe yourself. At least three times. I cannot explain how disheartening that third forty five second *whumpitawhumpitawhumpita* is when one is waiting for the stall. It makes me look at the New York Post with a whole new purpose.
I appreciate that you finally bought yourself a car, and a Mustang GT 5.0 at that. Frankly, seeing your sister waiting for you outside of work every day to drive your 30+ year old butt home every day was creeping us out. That said, when going to lunch, you do not need to walk around your car twice checking for road flares or other damage before getting in, and adjusting your mirrors, and seat (you're the only one driving it - what the hell's that all about?) before starting the motor, letting it warm up 30 seconds, turning on your blinker, and slowly proceeding out of the parking lot to the pizza place 100 yards down the road.
The speed limit is 55. You have a Mustang GT. What's with the 45 in the fast lane with that dopey look on your face?
The food at the company picnic is for everyone. Leftovers go to the fridge for the benefit of everyone the following day. Please don't park yourself and your sister in front of the five pound tray of potato salad and polish that bad boy off, especially when the rest of us are getting drunk. Speaking of which, as we're sitting around the bonfire drinking beer and passing around a bigass box of Mister Salty pretzels, don't jam your hand in there like you're spiking a football. "Sorry" doesn't drain the corn-on-the-cob water out of the box of Mister Soggys.
When Mikey has had a couple at the going away party, don't wave the tablecloth in front of him. He should be replacing that linoleum upstairs instead of fixing that "El Toro" hole in the drywall in the cafeteria. Relax and have a floor buffer ride like the rest of us.
Just because the former boss tossed pencils into the ceiling when frustrated, it does not mean that you have to stand on your desk (where the hell did you find a toe-hold on that office paper Matterhorn? Did you need crampons?) and carefully stick pencils into the ceiling tiles. It's just another thing Mikey has to replace before getting to that linoleum.
When we take you to the exotic dance club for your birthday and hand you a dollar, that is not for you to stick into the change machine and play video games. Just wanted you to know.
B
Statorama
Footballguy
No. 16
Footballguy
Dear New Assistant Manager,
When the whole resturant 1st met you we thought you were a #####. By the 2nd week we have now confirmed that you are a ##### when you wore the pink shirt w/ the collar popped. No one likes you.
Sincerely,
In 3 years I'll be out of that restaurant making 100k, while you'll still be a #####.
When the whole resturant 1st met you we thought you were a #####. By the 2nd week we have now confirmed that you are a ##### when you wore the pink shirt w/ the collar popped. No one likes you.
Sincerely,
In 3 years I'll be out of that restaurant making 100k, while you'll still be a #####.
Last edited by a moderator:
St. Louis Bob
Footballguy
joffer said:
Shooter McGavin
Down the middle
You work with LHUCKS?joffer said:
Sack-Religious
Footballguy
Dear creepy older lady;
I know you're unhappy in your marriage as you tell another co-worker all the gory details about what your husband doesn't do. So, I guess, thanks for keeping me out of that direct loop, although I hear it second hand anyway just so my co-workers head doesn't explode. At least I don't have to hear it from you, personally, saving me from seeing your greying, badly dyed hair and quite possibly the smallest teeth I've ever seen on an adult. Although, I don't even know if I'd call them teeth as they are basically the greyish colour of an elephant and they might be just a bit of jawbone protruding from your gums. I really haven't tried to get a close enough look to make sure.
Anywho. Yes, I grow my hair through the winter and yes it gets curly. It's fairly #######' obvious. PLEASE do not skulk into my cube and touch my hair and say "Oh, I love those curls" without giving me fair warning that you're coming in. Aside from being creepy and quite possibly sexual harrassment, it scares the bejeezus out of me.
Yours in harrassment,
Sack
I know you're unhappy in your marriage as you tell another co-worker all the gory details about what your husband doesn't do.
So, I guess, thanks for keeping me out of that direct loop, although I hear it second hand anyway just so my co-workers head doesn't explode. At least I don't have to hear it from you, personally, saving me from seeing your greying, badly dyed hair and quite possibly the smallest teeth I've ever seen on an adult. Although, I don't even know if I'd call them teeth as they are basically the greyish colour of an elephant and they might be just a bit of jawbone protruding from your gums. I really haven't tried to get a close enough look to make sure.Anywho. Yes, I grow my hair through the winter and yes it gets curly. It's fairly #######' obvious. PLEASE do not skulk into my cube and touch my hair and say "Oh, I love those curls" without giving me fair warning that you're coming in. Aside from being creepy and quite possibly sexual harrassment, it scares the bejeezus out of me.
Yours in harrassment,
Sack
baaloc1968
Footballguy
Coworker,
If I am supposed to pick up where you left off, show me the effin courtesy by telling me (email works) where you left off!
b
If I am supposed to pick up where you left off, show me the effin courtesy by telling me (email works) where you left off!
b
Nigel
Footballguy
I'll write this one on behalf of my wife:
Dear temp working at the front desk:
When I politely ask you if I can get you anything as I head out the door to get lunch, I meant "can I get you something to eat." Replying "yes", giving me $10 dollars and asking me to pick up two douches from CVS was not what I had in mind. Why I said "okay" and got them for you I'll never know, I guess you caught me off guard, but I do know that this is the last day you'll work here you ####### kook.
Nigel's wife
Dear temp working at the front desk:
When I politely ask you if I can get you anything as I head out the door to get lunch, I meant "can I get you something to eat." Replying "yes", giving me $10 dollars and asking me to pick up two douches from CVS was not what I had in mind. Why I said "okay" and got them for you I'll never know, I guess you caught me off guard, but I do know that this is the last day you'll work here you ####### kook.
Nigel's wife
I'll write this one on behalf of my wife
perry147
Footballguy
Did this happen?I'll write this one on behalf of my wife
Running with scissors
Stark Raving Sane
I'm going to go with "yes".Did this happen?I'll write this one on behalf of my wife
Nigel
Footballguy
yes it didDid this happen?I'll write this one on behalf of my wife
Nigel Tufnel
Footballguy
Girl-who-spread-her-legs-and-spawned-this-thread:
Please don't mime drinking something and whisper that you're going to go get a cup of coffee ... just go do it.
I love you,
NT
Please don't mime drinking something and whisper that you're going to go get a cup of coffee ... just go do it.
I love you,
NT
Nigel
Footballguy
Girl-who-spread-her-legs-and-spawned-this-threadlease don't mime drinking something and whisper that you're going to go get a cup of coffee ... just go do it.I love you,NT
bakes
I am the Beer God!
Dear New and Very Italian Secretary:
Please wax that upper lip of yours. Every time I see you I can't get the cover of Bruce Springsteen's "The Wild, the Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle" out of my head.
Grazi.
Please wax that upper lip of yours. Every time I see you I can't get the cover of Bruce Springsteen's "The Wild, the Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle" out of my head.
Grazi.
Giants2003
Footballguy
This is a great thread. I put together a site with this theme, am I allowed to post the link here? The site won't have any language filter. Everyone can vote on the posts so we can have a top 10 each month and a best of the year award.
The site still needs some work but all the basics are up now. PM me if you want to be a moderator there and I'll set you up.
The site still needs some work but all the basics are up now. PM me if you want to be a moderator there and I'll set you up.
Gamblor
Footballguy
Is it one of these?
