It Turns Out I Hate Your Taste in Everything

Brent,

Do you remember what happens at the end of that Tyler Perry movie? No, not that one. The other one. You know, the one where the guy dresses up like a fat, old, stereotype? No, not the one with Eddie Murphy. Yeah, you know the one.

And what are the lyrics to that Taylor Swift song? No, not the one about her ex-boyfriend. The one about her other ex-boyfriend. Yeah, the douchey one. You have that album, don't you? Of course you do. Because it's one of the most awful things to ever bumblefuck into existence. And you're an avid collector of that genre.

Now, I know that my tastes aren't exactly classy (though I will defend my love of cheesy, 90s pop rock to the grave), but...C'MON? T-Swift? T-Perry? T-he Office Season 7? How is it possible for one person to not only endure that much awful, but actually claim to enjoy it without bursting out into fits of uncontrollable laughter/rage??

I'm willing to overlook your fondness for Two and a Half Men, because you're one of 800 million viewers to somehow fall under the trance of mediocre jokes about relationships and child-rearing that didn't already end up on Everybody Loves Raymond. Speaking of which...you still watch Everybody Loves Raymond? Even the cast of Everybody Loves Raymond will turn the channel if it comes on TBS on Sunday afternoons.

Michael Bolton. "Cotton-Eye Joe." Zach Braff movies. Kristen Stewart. NASCAR. Those are my top 5 reasons for wanting to punch you in the decision-making part of your brain.

I mean, don't you ever get the urge to watch a Tarantino movie? Or listen to Simon & Garfunkel? Or...not recite the lyrics to Josh Groban's entire discography? At the very least, stop trying to force those interests onto your coworkers! We will never like them for the same reasons we will never like waking up to find sores on our genitals.

I'll make you a deal: go one shift without starting a sentence with "Here's why country music is so genuine..." and I'll gladly throw away all my Gin Blossoms' albums.

- Your coworker

Indoor Voice

Dear Alesha,


You don't have to yell! I am right here! Take the decibels the fuck down or I will stuff your mouth full of earplugs.

Yes, I understand that earplugs are supposed to go in your ears. Just...it's ironic. 

Now go back to work you crazy, window-shattering hooker!


Thank you.
Your coworker

A Happy Hour With You Is an Oxymoron

Dale,

I know, man. I know. We need to go get some drinks after work at that new dive bar downtown with the really good wings and the waitress who "wants your hog." I get it. You really want to go. And you have no other friends.

But I really have no intentions of going to a Happy Hour with you. Ever. Partly because I'm all set with my hepatitis levels, but mostly because the thought of sitting next to you in a public place while you loudly proclaim to passersby that you get "more ass than a toilet seat" is as appealing as literally giving you one of my testicles. Seriously, take one if it will get you off my case about this.

In fact, I'll give you both of them and one month's rent if you promise never to use the phrase "locked, cocked, and ready to rock" again while we're near people with ears.

"Happy" tidings,
Your coworker

You Say Fun Run, I Say Humdrum

Attention Colleagues:

I have no interest in participating in the Charity Fun Run next month. I know it's for a good cause. I know it would benefit my overall health to train for it. I know it's supposed to be a team building exercise. (Yes, it's a pun. Shut up about it.)

I know, I know, I know! But still...no.

It's not that I have anything against you all, per se, it's just that I have absolutely no desire to see your pasty legs running around in short shorts, nor do I want you to see mine. That's what we call mutually-assured destruction of the eyeballs. And I won't be a part of it.

If you all leave me alone I'll donate five bucks to each of you. That way we all win.

- Your Lazy (And Proud of It) Coworker