HoldSteady
Footballguy
Dear Attorney,
Please stop using the word 'checkmate' when agreeing with people.
-HS
Please stop using the word 'checkmate' when agreeing with people.
-HS
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A note to my coworker ... (2 Viewers)
- Thread starter Nigel Tufnel
- Start date
Bill Brasky
Footballguy
mr. furley
Footballguy
have you never eaten sauerkraut?
Cunk
Footballguy
Please! Please! Stop making changes or imagining new "problems" with our programs! We thought we were going gold today an now you're pointing out things that aren't even mistakes or problems and have been there since the start! Now is not the friggin' time!
Oh, and former boss who stopped in. Thanks for telling me to "watch my back". There goes plan A! Thanks for making feel even more nervous about the situation of which I have no control over!
Oh, and former boss who stopped in. Thanks for telling me to "watch my back". There goes plan A! Thanks for making feel even more nervous about the situation of which I have no control over!
Pick
Footballguy
Dear sister,
We are fine. You have to understand that a lot of your emails come off pretty bad. Just because someone says no to something doesn't mean something is wrong (and it's not your place to dig around and try to find out). And it doesn't mean someone doesn't like you . . . yet. We like to see family. But we're not going to drop everything we normally do and cater to whatever it is you want to do. And when that doesn't happen it isn't right of you to try and make people feel guilty with your snide remarks. I've laughed them off for years now but frankly, I tire of them recently. If you say that stuff in joking then you need to realize that it gets old and it's not funny to anyone anymore. And if you're serious about those comments then you got issues. Sorry I didn't say something sooner. I thought you'd grow out of it.
Yours in Christ,
Brother Who Hates His Whole Family
We are fine. You have to understand that a lot of your emails come off pretty bad. Just because someone says no to something doesn't mean something is wrong (and it's not your place to dig around and try to find out). And it doesn't mean someone doesn't like you . . . yet. We like to see family. But we're not going to drop everything we normally do and cater to whatever it is you want to do. And when that doesn't happen it isn't right of you to try and make people feel guilty with your snide remarks. I've laughed them off for years now but frankly, I tire of them recently. If you say that stuff in joking then you need to realize that it gets old and it's not funny to anyone anymore. And if you're serious about those comments then you got issues. Sorry I didn't say something sooner. I thought you'd grow out of it.
Yours in Christ,
Brother Who Hates His Whole Family
Red Eyed and Blue
Footballguy
Red Eyed and Blue
Footballguy
Dear Bathroom Play-by-Play/Color Commentator Guy -
When I took this job back in July, I was rather disturbed to learn that the one bathroom in the entire office was located exactly 15 feet from your desk. Throughout my life, I have enjoyed furtive facilities, lightly trafficked and undisturbed. At my last job, I would pass on the frenetic Men’s Room located adjacent to our office doors and opted instead to venture to the quiet 12th floor, where I could poop in utter solitude. Moreover, I consider taking a crap on the company dime my God given right and do my best reading while tucked away in locked isolation.
Furthermore, when our boss forewarned me that you would make my pooping life here at the office a humiliating experience, I was dumbfounded and didn't quite understand the admonishment. He chuckled and said "Just you wait..."
Unfortunately, I couldn't wait, thanks to a healthy heaping of black beans the night prior and thermos full of black coffee that morning. So I grabbed some reading material, went into the bathroom, locked the door and sat. I took a moment to admire the clean facilities, the wicker basket full of magazines and newspapers, the expensive artwork and all the candles. The bathroom even has a lovely shower attached. If ever there was a place designed to enjoy a daily dump, this is it.
And then it started. I let out muted warning shot before the cannon fodder hit the bowl. No sooner did that one note tune exit my body did I hear the cackling sounds of your high pitched laugh, follwed by a loud, obnoxious "WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA".
For a moment, I thought a hyena had entered the building. Then I remembered our boss's warning and knew right away that you were a debase, deranged version of the SNL "Copy Man" played by Rob Schnieder.
In the weeks and months since, I have been treated to rousing applause and several barked out, creative phrases like "Hey, we're trying to run a business out here" or "Oh my god, somebody has diarrhea" or my favorite "Dude, I'm on the phone!". It doesn't matter how hard I try to make as little noise as possible in there, it's as if you have a stethoscope to the door. You have taken what used to be an enjoyable workday past time and turned it into a traumatic experience. And I'm not alone. Everybody in the office is subject to your maniacal cat calls and turd analysis. What sucks is that when we try to flip the tables on you, you just laugh it off and feed on it. You come out of the bathroom holding up your arms like Rocky Balboa.
Not only do you yell and scream anytime you hear a fart, but you have been counting how many times each of us goes in there. If I go twice in a day, you say "Dude, what's wrong with you?" as if going twice in a day is abnormal. The day I went thrice, I thought you were going to call Ripley's. My poor boss installed a weather strip at the bottom of the door thinking that would help. Didn't work. Our poor analyst from India is so afraid of you that he drives to the grocery store to do his business. It's not funny. Also not funny is that you are a former body building champion who wakes up at 2am to work out every single day and could break me in half with your nostrils. Knock it the hell off. Let us poop in peace.
Sweet Kisses,
Poophobic
When I took this job back in July, I was rather disturbed to learn that the one bathroom in the entire office was located exactly 15 feet from your desk. Throughout my life, I have enjoyed furtive facilities, lightly trafficked and undisturbed. At my last job, I would pass on the frenetic Men’s Room located adjacent to our office doors and opted instead to venture to the quiet 12th floor, where I could poop in utter solitude. Moreover, I consider taking a crap on the company dime my God given right and do my best reading while tucked away in locked isolation.
Furthermore, when our boss forewarned me that you would make my pooping life here at the office a humiliating experience, I was dumbfounded and didn't quite understand the admonishment. He chuckled and said "Just you wait..."
Unfortunately, I couldn't wait, thanks to a healthy heaping of black beans the night prior and thermos full of black coffee that morning. So I grabbed some reading material, went into the bathroom, locked the door and sat. I took a moment to admire the clean facilities, the wicker basket full of magazines and newspapers, the expensive artwork and all the candles. The bathroom even has a lovely shower attached. If ever there was a place designed to enjoy a daily dump, this is it.
And then it started. I let out muted warning shot before the cannon fodder hit the bowl. No sooner did that one note tune exit my body did I hear the cackling sounds of your high pitched laugh, follwed by a loud, obnoxious "WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA".
For a moment, I thought a hyena had entered the building. Then I remembered our boss's warning and knew right away that you were a debase, deranged version of the SNL "Copy Man" played by Rob Schnieder.In the weeks and months since, I have been treated to rousing applause and several barked out, creative phrases like "Hey, we're trying to run a business out here" or "Oh my god, somebody has diarrhea" or my favorite "Dude, I'm on the phone!". It doesn't matter how hard I try to make as little noise as possible in there, it's as if you have a stethoscope to the door. You have taken what used to be an enjoyable workday past time and turned it into a traumatic experience. And I'm not alone. Everybody in the office is subject to your maniacal cat calls and turd analysis. What sucks is that when we try to flip the tables on you, you just laugh it off and feed on it. You come out of the bathroom holding up your arms like Rocky Balboa.
Not only do you yell and scream anytime you hear a fart, but you have been counting how many times each of us goes in there. If I go twice in a day, you say "Dude, what's wrong with you?" as if going twice in a day is abnormal. The day I went thrice, I thought you were going to call Ripley's. My poor boss installed a weather strip at the bottom of the door thinking that would help. Didn't work. Our poor analyst from India is so afraid of you that he drives to the grocery store to do his business. It's not funny. Also not funny is that you are a former body building champion who wakes up at 2am to work out every single day and could break me in half with your nostrils. Knock it the hell off. Let us poop in peace.
Sweet Kisses,
Poophobic
Last edited by a moderator:
Reg Lllama of Brixton
Footballguy
This guy needs to be punched in the throat.
george
Footballguy
Yes. And someone needs to leave a turd in his top desk drawer dressed like Mr Hanky, with a short note threatening more to come if he doesn't stop the Play by Play.
TommyGilmore
Footballguy
Start hiding poops.
Walton Goggins
Footballguy
Dear Bathroom Play-by-Play/Color Commentator Guy -
When I took this job back in July, I was rather disturbed to learn that the one bathroom in the entire office was located exactly 15 feet from your desk. Throughout my life, I have enjoyed furtive facilities, lightly trafficked and undisturbed. At my last job, I would pass on the frenetic Men’s Room located adjacent to our office doors and opted instead to venture to the quiet 12th floor, where I could poop in utter solitude. Moreover, I consider taking a crap on the company dime my God given right and do my best reading while tucked away in locked isolation.
Furthermore, when our boss forewarned me that you would make my pooping life here at the office a humiliating experience, I was dumbfounded and didn't quite understand the admonishment. He chuckled and said "Just you wait..."
Unfortunately, I couldn't wait, thanks to a healthy heaping of black beans the night prior and thermos full of black coffee that morning. So I grabbed some reading material, went into the bathroom, locked the door and sat. I took a moment to admire the clean facilities, the wicker basket full of magazines and newspapers, the expensive artwork and all the candles. The bathroom even has a lovely shower attached. If ever there was a place designed to enjoy a daily dump, this is it.
And then it started. I let out muted warning shot before the cannon fodder hit the bowl. No sooner did that one note tune exit my body did I hear the cackling sounds of your high pitched laugh, follwed by a loud, obnoxious "WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA".For a moment, I thought a hyena had entered the building. Then I remembered our boss's warning and knew right away that you were a debase, deranged version of the SNL "Copy Man" played by Rob Schnieder.
In the weeks and months since, I have been treated to rousing applause and several barked out, creative phrases like "Hey, we're trying to run a business out here" or "Oh my god, somebody has diarrhea" or my favorite "Dude, I'm on the phone!". It doesn't matter how hard I try to make as little noise as possible in there, it's as if you have a stethoscope to the door. You have taken what used to be an enjoyable workday past time and turned it into a traumatic experience. And I'm not alone. Everybody in the office is subject to your maniacal cat calls and turd analysis. What sucks is that when we try to flip the tables on you, you just laugh it off and feed on it. You come out of the bathroom holding up your arms like Rocky Balboa.
Not only do you yell and scream anytime you hear a fart, but you have been counting how many times each of us goes in there. If I go twice in a day, you say "Dude, what's wrong with you?" as if going twice in a day is abnormal. The day I went thrice, I thought you were going to call Ripley's. My poor boss installed a weather strip at the bottom of the door thinking that would help. Didn't work. Our poor analyst from India is so afraid of you that he drives to the grocery store to do his business. It's not funny. Also not funny is that you are a former body building champion who wakes up at 2am to work out every single day and could break me in half with your nostrils. Knock it the hell off. Let us poop in peace.
Sweet Kisses,
Poophobic
shuke
Black Ice Skeptic
St. Louis Bob
Footballguy
How long have you been working with Dentist?Oh and
Last edited by a moderator:
Red Eyed and Blue
Footballguy
I'm not sure I understand the reference. Link? Tell me he doesn't do this....How long have you been working with Dentist?Oh and
boilerdave
Footballguy
Yes it is.Red Eyed and Blue said:
Papa Georgio
Footballguy
Dear English Lit Teacher,
I know that you have it worse than anyone in the history of the world. Maybe if you were to lossen up your pony tail some you would not look like a plastic surgery mishap. HTH
I know that you have it worse than anyone in the history of the world. Maybe if you were to lossen up your pony tail some you would not look like a plastic surgery mishap. HTH
That's the problem with going at work. Everyone knows that you're ####ting. I just can't do it. I can understand if you work in a big building with multiple stalls or tucked away bathrooms but not in a smaller office where people can hear you or see how long you've been in there.Reg Lllama of Brixton said:
Walton Goggins
Footballguy
Yes it is.Red Eyed and Blue said:
Red Eyed and Blue
Footballguy
It sucks and this guy is making it far worse than it needs to be. I neglected to mention is other favorite trick, which he just reminded me of minutes ago.I went to the bathroom about an hour and half ago. I've grown a hard bark over his heckling of my growing a tail. But the indignity reached new heights today when he made his way towards the door, pulled his shirt over his nose and mouth, made a big scene about "Going In!" and then, after he locked the door, let out a bellowing "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!! THERE'S STREAK MARKS!!!!"
Like I said, there's not much I can do. He can bench press a Corolla.
perry147
Footballguy
Dear outsourcing company -
You asked for the subject line to be changed on the automated emails we send to you from our change request system, and the email address changed; this was done in about 10 minutes. Four days later and about 80 hours of work from our IT team it is finally working correctly after changing the following:
1. Change the SMTP exchange server, not try this one, no try this one, OK we can build another one especially for your system.
2. Change Login and password setting for application on web server. This has nothing to do with it failing but at this point we will try anything. Oh, and why not use a domain admin account just to make sure it is not a right issue.
3. Have different people initialize the request. It might have been an operating system problem or perhaps a outlook setting interfering with something.
4. Format the body of the email in HTML and not plain text.
5. Try to not CC people on the email.
6. Try to not BC people on the email.
After all of this and many more senseless tasks it is revealed that the new system you asked us to switch (by changing the subject line) was brand new and we were the first company to try and use it. I hope you enjoy the new month because after that we will be switching companies.
Signed,
Your biggest client
ETA: Bad spelling because my hands are shaking.
You asked for the subject line to be changed on the automated emails we send to you from our change request system, and the email address changed; this was done in about 10 minutes. Four days later and about 80 hours of work from our IT team it is finally working correctly after changing the following:
1. Change the SMTP exchange server, not try this one, no try this one, OK we can build another one especially for your system.
2. Change Login and password setting for application on web server. This has nothing to do with it failing but at this point we will try anything. Oh, and why not use a domain admin account just to make sure it is not a right issue.
3. Have different people initialize the request. It might have been an operating system problem or perhaps a outlook setting interfering with something.
4. Format the body of the email in HTML and not plain text.
5. Try to not CC people on the email.
6. Try to not BC people on the email.
After all of this and many more senseless tasks it is revealed that the new system you asked us to switch (by changing the subject line) was brand new and we were the first company to try and use it. I hope you enjoy the new month because after that we will be switching companies.
Signed,
Your biggest client
ETA: Bad spelling because my hands are shaking.
Last edited by a moderator:
russinfortworth
Footballguy
We don't get much credit, but we didn't schedule North Texas his year. But I get your point.
kaso
Footballguy
:X That was the best post I have read in a long time. A couple of thoughts:1. I loved that this guy has made such a big deal of this that your boss actually warned you. It's an absolute given that he could have been moved to a new location, but whoever gets to make that decision has the same sense of humor as him.2. This deserves it's own thread. By the sounds of it we could expect daily updates.3. Get this guy invited onto the board, so that he can put in his own comments on your activities before you even make it back to your desk.Red Eyed and Blue said:
Red Eyed and Blue
Footballguy
Red Eyed and Blue said:
1. It's a small office with only 6 guys. Thankfully, there are no women here or we'd be sued inside of 3 work days minutes. All of our desks are in a row, he just happens to be the closest to the bathroom. While he's 15" from the bathroom, I'm just 30" away from him. 2. A thread based on the pooping traffic reports of my office? I'll sleep on it.
3. If he gets on here, he might discover how much time I actually spend on here and tell my boss.
But I apprecaite the kind words.
mozzy84
Footballguy
this has got to be post of the year. Your co-worker sounds funny as hellRed Eyed and Blue said:Dear Bathroom Play-by-Play/Color Commentator Guy -
When I took this job back in July, I was rather disturbed to learn that the one bathroom in the entire office was located exactly 15 feet from your desk. Throughout my life, I have enjoyed furtive facilities, lightly trafficked and undisturbed. At my last job, I would pass on the frenetic Men’s Room located adjacent to our office doors and opted instead to venture to the quiet 12th floor, where I could poop in utter solitude. Moreover, I consider taking a crap on the company dime my God given right and do my best reading while tucked away in locked isolation.
Furthermore, when our boss forewarned me that you would make my pooping life here at the office a humiliating experience, I was dumbfounded and didn't quite understand the admonishment. He chuckled and said "Just you wait..."
Unfortunately, I couldn't wait, thanks to a healthy heaping of black beans the night prior and thermos full of black coffee that morning. So I grabbed some reading material, went into the bathroom, locked the door and sat. I took a moment to admire the clean facilities, the wicker basket full of magazines and newspapers, the expensive artwork and all the candles. The bathroom even has a lovely shower attached. If ever there was a place designed to enjoy a daily dump, this is it.
And then it started. I let out muted warning shot before the cannon fodder hit the bowl. No sooner did that one note tune exit my body did I hear the cackling sounds of your high pitched laugh, follwed by a loud, obnoxious "WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA".For a moment, I thought a hyena had entered the building. Then I remembered our boss's warning and knew right away that you were a debase, deranged version of the SNL "Copy Man" played by Rob Schnieder.
In the weeks and months since, I have been treated to rousing applause and several barked out, creative phrases like "Hey, we're trying to run a business out here" or "Oh my god, somebody has diarrhea" or my favorite "Dude, I'm on the phone!". It doesn't matter how hard I try to make as little noise as possible in there, it's as if you have a stethoscope to the door. You have taken what used to be an enjoyable workday past time and turned it into a traumatic experience. And I'm not alone. Everybody in the office is subject to your maniacal cat calls and turd analysis. What sucks is that when we try to flip the tables on you, you just laugh it off and feed on it. You come out of the bathroom holding up your arms like Rocky Balboa.
Not only do you yell and scream anytime you hear a fart, but you have been counting how many times each of us goes in there. If I go twice in a day, you say "Dude, what's wrong with you?" as if going twice in a day is abnormal. The day I went thrice, I thought you were going to call Ripley's. My poor boss installed a weather strip at the bottom of the door thinking that would help. Didn't work. Our poor analyst from India is so afraid of you that he drives to the grocery store to do his business. It's not funny. Also not funny is that you are a former body building champion who wakes up at 2am to work out every single day and could break me in half with your nostrils. Knock it the hell off. Let us poop in peace.
Sweet Kisses,
Poophobic
Walton Goggins
Footballguy
this has got to be post of the year. Your co-worker sounds funny as hellRed Eyed and Blue said:Dear Bathroom Play-by-Play/Color Commentator Guy -
When I took this job back in July, I was rather disturbed to learn that the one bathroom in the entire office was located exactly 15 feet from your desk. Throughout my life, I have enjoyed furtive facilities, lightly trafficked and undisturbed. At my last job, I would pass on the frenetic Men’s Room located adjacent to our office doors and opted instead to venture to the quiet 12th floor, where I could poop in utter solitude. Moreover, I consider taking a crap on the company dime my God given right and do my best reading while tucked away in locked isolation.
Furthermore, when our boss forewarned me that you would make my pooping life here at the office a humiliating experience, I was dumbfounded and didn't quite understand the admonishment. He chuckled and said "Just you wait..."
Unfortunately, I couldn't wait, thanks to a healthy heaping of black beans the night prior and thermos full of black coffee that morning. So I grabbed some reading material, went into the bathroom, locked the door and sat. I took a moment to admire the clean facilities, the wicker basket full of magazines and newspapers, the expensive artwork and all the candles. The bathroom even has a lovely shower attached. If ever there was a place designed to enjoy a daily dump, this is it.
And then it started. I let out muted warning shot before the cannon fodder hit the bowl. No sooner did that one note tune exit my body did I hear the cackling sounds of your high pitched laugh, follwed by a loud, obnoxious "WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA".
In the weeks and months since, I have been treated to rousing applause and several barked out, creative phrases like "Hey, we're trying to run a business out here" or "Oh my god, somebody has diarrhea" or my favorite "Dude, I'm on the phone!". It doesn't matter how hard I try to make as little noise as possible in there, it's as if you have a stethoscope to the door. You have taken what used to be an enjoyable workday past time and turned it into a traumatic experience. And I'm not alone. Everybody in the office is subject to your maniacal cat calls and turd analysis. What sucks is that when we try to flip the tables on you, you just laugh it off and feed on it. You come out of the bathroom holding up your arms like Rocky Balboa.
Not only do you yell and scream anytime you hear a fart, but you have been counting how many times each of us goes in there. If I go twice in a day, you say "Dude, what's wrong with you?" as if going twice in a day is abnormal. The day I went thrice, I thought you were going to call Ripley's. My poor boss installed a weather strip at the bottom of the door thinking that would help. Didn't work. Our poor analyst from India is so afraid of you that he drives to the grocery store to do his business. It's not funny. Also not funny is that you are a former body building champion who wakes up at 2am to work out every single day and could break me in half with your nostrils. Knock it the hell off. Let us poop in peace.
Sweet Kisses,
Poophobic
Mookie Blaylock
Footballguy
+1this has got to be post of the year. Your co-worker sounds funny as hellRed Eyed and Blue said:Dear Bathroom Play-by-Play/Color Commentator Guy -
When I took this job back in July, I was rather disturbed to learn that the one bathroom in the entire office was located exactly 15 feet from your desk. Throughout my life, I have enjoyed furtive facilities, lightly trafficked and undisturbed. At my last job, I would pass on the frenetic Men’s Room located adjacent to our office doors and opted instead to venture to the quiet 12th floor, where I could poop in utter solitude. Moreover, I consider taking a crap on the company dime my God given right and do my best reading while tucked away in locked isolation.
Furthermore, when our boss forewarned me that you would make my pooping life here at the office a humiliating experience, I was dumbfounded and didn't quite understand the admonishment. He chuckled and said "Just you wait..."
Unfortunately, I couldn't wait, thanks to a healthy heaping of black beans the night prior and thermos full of black coffee that morning. So I grabbed some reading material, went into the bathroom, locked the door and sat. I took a moment to admire the clean facilities, the wicker basket full of magazines and newspapers, the expensive artwork and all the candles. The bathroom even has a lovely shower attached. If ever there was a place designed to enjoy a daily dump, this is it.
And then it started. I let out muted warning shot before the cannon fodder hit the bowl. No sooner did that one note tune exit my body did I hear the cackling sounds of your high pitched laugh, follwed by a loud, obnoxious "WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA".For a moment, I thought a hyena had entered the building. Then I remembered our boss's warning and knew right away that you were a debase, deranged version of the SNL "Copy Man" played by Rob Schnieder.
In the weeks and months since, I have been treated to rousing applause and several barked out, creative phrases like "Hey, we're trying to run a business out here" or "Oh my god, somebody has diarrhea" or my favorite "Dude, I'm on the phone!". It doesn't matter how hard I try to make as little noise as possible in there, it's as if you have a stethoscope to the door. You have taken what used to be an enjoyable workday past time and turned it into a traumatic experience. And I'm not alone. Everybody in the office is subject to your maniacal cat calls and turd analysis. What sucks is that when we try to flip the tables on you, you just laugh it off and feed on it. You come out of the bathroom holding up your arms like Rocky Balboa.
Not only do you yell and scream anytime you hear a fart, but you have been counting how many times each of us goes in there. If I go twice in a day, you say "Dude, what's wrong with you?" as if going twice in a day is abnormal. The day I went thrice, I thought you were going to call Ripley's. My poor boss installed a weather strip at the bottom of the door thinking that would help. Didn't work. Our poor analyst from India is so afraid of you that he drives to the grocery store to do his business. It's not funny. Also not funny is that you are a former body building champion who wakes up at 2am to work out every single day and could break me in half with your nostrils. Knock it the hell off. Let us poop in peace.
Sweet Kisses,
Poophobic
Seymour Corn
it=info
It's funny.Dear Bathroom Play-by-Play/Color Commentator Guy -
When I took this job back in July, I was rather disturbed to learn that the one bathroom in the entire office was located exactly 15 feet from your desk. Throughout my life, I have enjoyed furtive facilities, lightly trafficked and undisturbed. At my last job, I would pass on the frenetic Men’s Room located adjacent to our office doors and opted instead to venture to the quiet 12th floor, where I could poop in utter solitude. Moreover, I consider taking a crap on the company dime my God given right and do my best reading while tucked away in locked isolation.
Furthermore, when our boss forewarned me that you would make my pooping life here at the office a humiliating experience, I was dumbfounded and didn't quite understand the admonishment. He chuckled and said "Just you wait..."
Unfortunately, I couldn't wait, thanks to a healthy heaping of black beans the night prior and thermos full of black coffee that morning. So I grabbed some reading material, went into the bathroom, locked the door and sat. I took a moment to admire the clean facilities, the wicker basket full of magazines and newspapers, the expensive artwork and all the candles. The bathroom even has a lovely shower attached. If ever there was a place designed to enjoy a daily dump, this is it.
And then it started. I let out muted warning shot before the cannon fodder hit the bowl. No sooner did that one note tune exit my body did I hear the cackling sounds of your high pitched laugh, follwed by a loud, obnoxious "WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA".
In the weeks and months since, I have been treated to rousing applause and several barked out, creative phrases like "Hey, we're trying to run a business out here" or "Oh my god, somebody has diarrhea" or my favorite "Dude, I'm on the phone!". It doesn't matter how hard I try to make as little noise as possible in there, it's as if you have a stethoscope to the door. You have taken what used to be an enjoyable workday past time and turned it into a traumatic experience. And I'm not alone. Everybody in the office is subject to your maniacal cat calls and turd analysis. What sucks is that when we try to flip the tables on you, you just laugh it off and feed on it. You come out of the bathroom holding up your arms like Rocky Balboa.
Not only do you yell and scream anytime you hear a fart, but you have been counting how many times each of us goes in there. If I go twice in a day, you say "Dude, what's wrong with you?" as if going twice in a day is abnormal. The day I went thrice, I thought you were going to call Ripley's. My poor boss installed a weather strip at the bottom of the door thinking that would help. Didn't work. Our poor analyst from India is so afraid of you that he drives to the grocery store to do his business. It's not funny. Also not funny is that you are a former body building champion who wakes up at 2am to work out every single day and could break me in half with your nostrils. Knock it the hell off. Let us poop in peace.
Sweet Kisses,
Poophobic
SuperJohn96
RPS World Champion
It's funny cuz it's not me.Seymour Corn said:It's funny.Dear Bathroom Play-by-Play/Color Commentator Guy -
When I took this job back in July, I was rather disturbed to learn that the one bathroom in the entire office was located exactly 15 feet from your desk. Throughout my life, I have enjoyed furtive facilities, lightly trafficked and undisturbed. At my last job, I would pass on the frenetic Men’s Room located adjacent to our office doors and opted instead to venture to the quiet 12th floor, where I could poop in utter solitude. Moreover, I consider taking a crap on the company dime my God given right and do my best reading while tucked away in locked isolation.
Furthermore, when our boss forewarned me that you would make my pooping life here at the office a humiliating experience, I was dumbfounded and didn't quite understand the admonishment. He chuckled and said "Just you wait..."
Unfortunately, I couldn't wait, thanks to a healthy heaping of black beans the night prior and thermos full of black coffee that morning. So I grabbed some reading material, went into the bathroom, locked the door and sat. I took a moment to admire the clean facilities, the wicker basket full of magazines and newspapers, the expensive artwork and all the candles. The bathroom even has a lovely shower attached. If ever there was a place designed to enjoy a daily dump, this is it.
And then it started. I let out muted warning shot before the cannon fodder hit the bowl. No sooner did that one note tune exit my body did I hear the cackling sounds of your high pitched laugh, follwed by a loud, obnoxious "WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA".For a moment, I thought a hyena had entered the building. Then I remembered our boss's warning and knew right away that you were a debase, deranged version of the SNL "Copy Man" played by Rob Schnieder.
In the weeks and months since, I have been treated to rousing applause and several barked out, creative phrases like "Hey, we're trying to run a business out here" or "Oh my god, somebody has diarrhea" or my favorite "Dude, I'm on the phone!". It doesn't matter how hard I try to make as little noise as possible in there, it's as if you have a stethoscope to the door. You have taken what used to be an enjoyable workday past time and turned it into a traumatic experience. And I'm not alone. Everybody in the office is subject to your maniacal cat calls and turd analysis. What sucks is that when we try to flip the tables on you, you just laugh it off and feed on it. You come out of the bathroom holding up your arms like Rocky Balboa.
Not only do you yell and scream anytime you hear a fart, but you have been counting how many times each of us goes in there. If I go twice in a day, you say "Dude, what's wrong with you?" as if going twice in a day is abnormal. The day I went thrice, I thought you were going to call Ripley's. My poor boss installed a weather strip at the bottom of the door thinking that would help. Didn't work. Our poor analyst from India is so afraid of you that he drives to the grocery store to do his business. It's not funny. Also not funny is that you are a former body building champion who wakes up at 2am to work out every single day and could break me in half with your nostrils. Knock it the hell off. Let us poop in peace.
Sweet Kisses,
Poophobic
L5UT1ger
Footballguy
VeryIt's funny cuz it's not me.Seymour Corn said:It's funny.Dear Bathroom Play-by-Play/Color Commentator Guy -
When I took this job back in July, I was rather disturbed to learn that the one bathroom in the entire office was located exactly 15 feet from your desk. Throughout my life, I have enjoyed furtive facilities, lightly trafficked and undisturbed. At my last job, I would pass on the frenetic Men’s Room located adjacent to our office doors and opted instead to venture to the quiet 12th floor, where I could poop in utter solitude. Moreover, I consider taking a crap on the company dime my God given right and do my best reading while tucked away in locked isolation.
Furthermore, when our boss forewarned me that you would make my pooping life here at the office a humiliating experience, I was dumbfounded and didn't quite understand the admonishment. He chuckled and said "Just you wait..."
Unfortunately, I couldn't wait, thanks to a healthy heaping of black beans the night prior and thermos full of black coffee that morning. So I grabbed some reading material, went into the bathroom, locked the door and sat. I took a moment to admire the clean facilities, the wicker basket full of magazines and newspapers, the expensive artwork and all the candles. The bathroom even has a lovely shower attached. If ever there was a place designed to enjoy a daily dump, this is it.
And then it started. I let out muted warning shot before the cannon fodder hit the bowl. No sooner did that one note tune exit my body did I hear the cackling sounds of your high pitched laugh, follwed by a loud, obnoxious "WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA".
In the weeks and months since, I have been treated to rousing applause and several barked out, creative phrases like "Hey, we're trying to run a business out here" or "Oh my god, somebody has diarrhea" or my favorite "Dude, I'm on the phone!". It doesn't matter how hard I try to make as little noise as possible in there, it's as if you have a stethoscope to the door. You have taken what used to be an enjoyable workday past time and turned it into a traumatic experience. And I'm not alone. Everybody in the office is subject to your maniacal cat calls and turd analysis. What sucks is that when we try to flip the tables on you, you just laugh it off and feed on it. You come out of the bathroom holding up your arms like Rocky Balboa.
Not only do you yell and scream anytime you hear a fart, but you have been counting how many times each of us goes in there. If I go twice in a day, you say "Dude, what's wrong with you?" as if going twice in a day is abnormal. The day I went thrice, I thought you were going to call Ripley's. My poor boss installed a weather strip at the bottom of the door thinking that would help. Didn't work. Our poor analyst from India is so afraid of you that he drives to the grocery store to do his business. It's not funny. Also not funny is that you are a former body building champion who wakes up at 2am to work out every single day and could break me in half with your nostrils. Knock it the hell off. Let us poop in peace.
Sweet Kisses,
Poophobic
TheAristocrat
Footballguy
Email Rec'd at 11:43 PM MST Yesterday:
"Subject: Axtual shedule for week ot Novem 42"
Dear Partner,
1) This email should not have gone to the whole office.
2) Don't ignore the spellchecker.
3) Don't drunk email
4) It's not a well kept secret that you've been asked to leave. This isn't helping.
-TA
"Subject: Axtual shedule for week ot Novem 42"
Dear Partner,
1) This email should not have gone to the whole office.
2) Don't ignore the spellchecker.
3) Don't drunk email
4) It's not a well kept secret that you've been asked to leave. This isn't helping.
-TA
Nigel Tufnel
Footballguy
Overheard at work:
Coworker, eating something from our potluck lunch: "I wanna know who made these, 'cause they are the be all end be!"
Coworker, eating something from our potluck lunch: "I wanna know who made these, 'cause they are the be all end be!"
Reg Lllama of Brixton
Footballguy
We're discussing Andrew Jackson and Florida today.Me: So Jackson takes his troops into Florida to capture Seminole raiders. Seminoles...in Florida...does that remind anybody of anything?
Kid: Cinnamon?
TommyGilmore
Footballguy
What, you've never heard of the famous Cinnamon Raiders and their leader, Chief Oregano?
Shooter McGavin
Down the middle
I have to assume that a fat chick sent this out. Reply with "Too late for you, I guess."CBusAlex said:
Nigel Tufnel
Footballguy
You've brought your daughter to work, huh? This should be fun.
Keys Myaths
Pokerguy
I got this too.
ChampBailey24
Footballguy
ChampBailey24
Footballguy
Dear Bathroom Play-by-Play/Color Commentator Guy -
When I took this job back in July, I was rather disturbed to learn that the one bathroom in the entire office was located exactly 15 feet from your desk. Throughout my life, I have enjoyed furtive facilities, lightly trafficked and undisturbed. At my last job, I would pass on the frenetic Men’s Room located adjacent to our office doors and opted instead to venture to the quiet 12th floor, where I could poop in utter solitude. Moreover, I consider taking a crap on the company dime my God given right and do my best reading while tucked away in locked isolation.
Furthermore, when our boss forewarned me that you would make my pooping life here at the office a humiliating experience, I was dumbfounded and didn't quite understand the admonishment. He chuckled and said "Just you wait..."
Unfortunately, I couldn't wait, thanks to a healthy heaping of black beans the night prior and thermos full of black coffee that morning. So I grabbed some reading material, went into the bathroom, locked the door and sat. I took a moment to admire the clean facilities, the wicker basket full of magazines and newspapers, the expensive artwork and all the candles. The bathroom even has a lovely shower attached. If ever there was a place designed to enjoy a daily dump, this is it.
And then it started. I let out muted warning shot before the cannon fodder hit the bowl. No sooner did that one note tune exit my body did I hear the cackling sounds of your high pitched laugh, follwed by a loud, obnoxious "WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA".
In the weeks and months since, I have been treated to rousing applause and several barked out, creative phrases like "Hey, we're trying to run a business out here" or "Oh my god, somebody has diarrhea" or my favorite "Dude, I'm on the phone!". It doesn't matter how hard I try to make as little noise as possible in there, it's as if you have a stethoscope to the door. You have taken what used to be an enjoyable workday past time and turned it into a traumatic experience. And I'm not alone. Everybody in the office is subject to your maniacal cat calls and turd analysis. What sucks is that when we try to flip the tables on you, you just laugh it off and feed on it. You come out of the bathroom holding up your arms like Rocky Balboa.
Not only do you yell and scream anytime you hear a fart, but you have been counting how many times each of us goes in there. If I go twice in a day, you say "Dude, what's wrong with you?" as if going twice in a day is abnormal. The day I went thrice, I thought you were going to call Ripley's. My poor boss installed a weather strip at the bottom of the door thinking that would help. Didn't work. Our poor analyst from India is so afraid of you that he drives to the grocery store to do his business. It's not funny. Also not funny is that you are a former body building champion who wakes up at 2am to work out every single day and could break me in half with your nostrils. Knock it the hell off. Let us poop in peace.
Sweet Kisses,
Poophobic
popeye
Footballguy
Dear guy who changes the air freshener in the men's room,
I know it's the holidays. And sure, at first thought I can see where it may be nice if everyplace smelled like gingerbread. But the combination brewing in there now makes me sick whenever I pass a bakery.
Please stop.
I know it's the holidays. And sure, at first thought I can see where it may be nice if everyplace smelled like gingerbread. But the combination brewing in there now makes me sick whenever I pass a bakery.
Please stop.
ragincajun
Footballguy
Dear guy who makes a trip to the bathroom everyday at 1pm (CST). Please use spray and turn on the fan. Its like you leave roadkill in there.
RC
RC
Shooter McGavin
Down the middle
Dear Lady who I assume has 30 cats at home:
You cried watching "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer"? Seriously?
Oh, and I'm sure your nephew is ecstatic that you live a mile away and plan on randomly dropping in whenever you feel like it to see their kid.
Rgds,
SM
You cried watching "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer"? Seriously?
Oh, and I'm sure your nephew is ecstatic that you live a mile away and plan on randomly dropping in whenever you feel like it to see their kid.
Rgds,
SM
Capn Crunch
Footballguy
Dear Two Anonymous Coworkers:
Ten minutes ago I went into the bathroom here at work to let out the brown dog (actually, it was more than likely just going to be a fart but at my age, you can never trust a fart). Mild noisiness but nothing out fo the ordinary. While I'm contemplating life on the throne, two of you walk into different stalls:
The first one: Why did you sit down in the stall next to me (a toilettiquette faux pas if ever there was one) when there was another stall available? And hiow did you determine that this was the ideal place to remove a big kettle drum from your pants and strangle a duck in it? I have no idea how you got either of them past security let alone into the stall, but sure as hell you were trying your damndest. The duck was putting up one hell of a fight, too. Sounded like a merganser, but may have been a mallard. Costco out of ducks?
The second one: Apparently you had a bizarre argument with your wife this moring, or maybe a group of Shriners for all I know, but trying to remove the kazoo stuck up your rectum using solely intestinal pressure is just weird. I had to listen to that for a good five seconds. Go ahead, count it out. Then when constant pressure didn't work you decided to move on to a rat-a-tat-tat staccato technique. next time, I suggest keeping a set of Vise-Grips handy.
Wishing for a peaceful download,
Your Capn.
Ten minutes ago I went into the bathroom here at work to let out the brown dog (actually, it was more than likely just going to be a fart but at my age, you can never trust a fart). Mild noisiness but nothing out fo the ordinary. While I'm contemplating life on the throne, two of you walk into different stalls:
The first one: Why did you sit down in the stall next to me (a toilettiquette faux pas if ever there was one) when there was another stall available? And hiow did you determine that this was the ideal place to remove a big kettle drum from your pants and strangle a duck in it? I have no idea how you got either of them past security let alone into the stall, but sure as hell you were trying your damndest. The duck was putting up one hell of a fight, too. Sounded like a merganser, but may have been a mallard. Costco out of ducks?
The second one: Apparently you had a bizarre argument with your wife this moring, or maybe a group of Shriners for all I know, but trying to remove the kazoo stuck up your rectum using solely intestinal pressure is just weird. I had to listen to that for a good five seconds. Go ahead, count it out. Then when constant pressure didn't work you decided to move on to a rat-a-tat-tat staccato technique. next time, I suggest keeping a set of Vise-Grips handy.
Wishing for a peaceful download,
Your Capn.
TheAristocrat
Footballguy
Me: Hey _____, how's it going?
Female co-worker with 20+ years on me: Oh fine. It's starting to snow.
Me: Really? Wasn't when I came in.
FCW: Yeah, I had a pap smear this morning. It started on my way downtown.
Me:
FCW: You know how that goes?
Me: Not in the least.
I also would have accepted "I had a doctor's appointment."
Female co-worker with 20+ years on me: Oh fine. It's starting to snow.
Me: Really? Wasn't when I came in.
FCW: Yeah, I had a pap smear this morning. It started on my way downtown.
Me:
FCW: You know how that goes?
Me: Not in the least.
I also would have accepted "I had a doctor's appointment."
Shooter McGavin
Down the middle
Another lady I work with was apparently talking yesterday about her husband going to the doctor because he had "oily stool". I was working from home, so I missed out on that little gem.Me: Hey _____, how's it going?Female co-worker with 20+ years on me: Oh fine. It's starting to snow.Me: Really? Wasn't when I came in.FCW: Yeah, I had a pap smear this morning. It started on my way downtown.Me:
