Maybe You Should Try Some MACROwaves.

I Say "Vacation," You Say "You Can't Do That"

Hey boss,

I need a vacation from being awesome. It's getting to be a bit of a burden.

But seriously, you have to allow me to take a vacation at some point during my tenure at this job. I'm pretty sure it's a law or something.

So I'll make you a deal: You give me a week off or...I will continue submitting formal requests for you to give me a week off. All up in your desk space. It will rain company-issued vacation slips like it's a working class Lil Wayne music video.

I don't really have any better ideas right now. I'm tired.

Give me vacation.

Slothfully,
Your Employee

You Can't Spell Dumb Without "Ummmm." Also, "Derrrrr."

Dear Alice,

You are a person. A human person. You are over the age of 10. You are aware of the weather conditions sometimes, and can sometimes share those insights with those around you. Sometimes not. Occasionally, the words you say form sentences and thoughts.

And that's all of the things I can say about you that don't sound negative and insulting.

Now, for all of the other things:

• You're dumb. You're so, so aggressively stupid that I often suspect that your brain has been replaced with a frozen turkey dinner.
• "Use" is a word. "Yous" is not. "Yous guys" isn't an endearing trait of your regional diction, it's a sign the public school system failed you and will assuredly fail your children, as well.
• "Uses" is a word. "Yous's" is absolutely fucking not. "Yous's" makes you sound like Foghorn Leghorn's concussion-prone cousin. 
• Your shoes are what's making that noise.
• Paying off your credit cards is not a bad thing. Refusing to pay more than the minimum amount each month is less "a great way to build your credit rating" and more "a sign I should never, under any circumstances, loan you money."
• Scotch tape does not adequately replace staples. And it's not, nor has it ever been made of whiskey. Seriously?
• Bill Paxton was in Twister, Bill Pullman was in Independence Day, and Bill Murray is not someone who should ever be confused with those two.
• Still your shoes. That noise is still coming from your shoes.

I really do try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. My pockets are full of second chances and my brain space is more than happy to ignore a whole lot of dumbness. If I ask someone their thoughts on the end of Inception--as I'm wont to do--and their response is that "The human life begins immediately after," I don't think "This is a completely irredeemable person whose place in society is somewhere just beneath serial killers." I probably should, but I don't. Instead I think, "This person has either a very strange sense of humor or some acute brain damage that I should be sensitive to in the future."

But there's a caveat--that means "stipulation" or "limitation," Alice--to this social agreement. When I ask if you like The Beatles (the safest of all conversation starters) and you reply that "They're so disgusting, ewww," then elaborating that you "Once squished one under [your] shoe and the smell made [you] throw up..."

My brain can only expel so much stupid at once. When it gets overloaded, some of its higher functions, such as empathy and not stabbing people in the mouth with a pair of rusty scissors tend to shut down. So that happens when someone talks about "stepping on" Ringo Starr. Or asking who Ringo Starr is.

Boy, this is coming off kinda harsh, isn't it? Look, I'm not saying that you are 100 percent of an idiot. But your personality, your actions, and the words you say force me to believe the frozen turkey dinner in your head is rapidly thawing and will soon discharge a steady stream of drool and salmonella from your mouth.

There. That's a nicer way of putting it.

Wishing You A Lifetime of Blissful Ignorance,
Your Coworker

Mystery Cupcake

To whomever left that cupcake on my desk:

I don't who did this, what this thing is made of, or what the chances are that I will succumb to stomach pains and spontaneous diarrhea after ingesting it. But I'm going to eat that cupcake. I mean I'm really going to town on it and there's not a thing any of you can do about it.

By the time you've read this note, I will have shoved that chocolate chip (?) concoction straight down my gullet. I might have choked on it. Not even my own teeth are going to get in the way of my stomach wrapping itself around that hopefully poison-free treat with what smells like some kind of mocha icing on it.

God damn, are those real coffee grounds as sprinkles????

Thank you to whoever did this. Even if there is a tiny cricket cooked into the middle as an elaborate and thoroughly disturbing prank. I have no qualms with that.

Keep Doing This Forever,
Your coworker