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
Proof that the workforce breeds equal amounts cruelty and stupidity.
9/04/2012
8/22/2012
Re: Fwd: Fwd: FWD: FWD: Why is kitty so grumpy???
Fran,
Stop clogging up my inbox with needless emails of every outdated internet sensation you can scrounge up with your grubby little fingers and your sticky keyboard.
When someone sends you that picture of the adorable little kitten with the intentionally misspelled caption (in ALL CAPS, no less), don't pass it along to every unfortunate email address in your contact list. Instead, think to yourself, "who should I share this with that wouldn't want to cause me large dollops of harm because I just wasted 1.8 megabytes of their computer space with this slapdash attempt at cutesy humor?"
Those three letters, "FWD," might as well stand for "Fucking Waste of Delivery." Nobody wants to open anything that starts out that with that giant warning sign. So don't bother.
Since you seem like the type of person who might still think I'm "just joshing around," please allow me this moment of bluntness:
If you forward me one more YouTube video of a "dancing" baby, one more picture of a rodent on skis, one more lolcat, Rickroll, or Epic Fail, you can be sure that the only response to those emails I'll ever send is an embedded video of me purchasing a large gun, an attached photo of a bullet with your name on it, and the link to your home address via Google Maps.
LOL,
Your coworker
Stop clogging up my inbox with needless emails of every outdated internet sensation you can scrounge up with your grubby little fingers and your sticky keyboard.
When someone sends you that picture of the adorable little kitten with the intentionally misspelled caption (in ALL CAPS, no less), don't pass it along to every unfortunate email address in your contact list. Instead, think to yourself, "who should I share this with that wouldn't want to cause me large dollops of harm because I just wasted 1.8 megabytes of their computer space with this slapdash attempt at cutesy humor?"
Those three letters, "FWD," might as well stand for "Fucking Waste of Delivery." Nobody wants to open anything that starts out that with that giant warning sign. So don't bother.
Since you seem like the type of person who might still think I'm "just joshing around," please allow me this moment of bluntness:
If you forward me one more YouTube video of a "dancing" baby, one more picture of a rodent on skis, one more lolcat, Rickroll, or Epic Fail, you can be sure that the only response to those emails I'll ever send is an embedded video of me purchasing a large gun, an attached photo of a bullet with your name on it, and the link to your home address via Google Maps.
LOL,
Your coworker
8/02/2012
Music to Absolutely No One's Ears
Hey Rhonda,
So, I understand you're a music lover, eh? Well, perhaps more accurately, I hear you're a music lover. Hold on, even more accurately, I've been given undeniable proof of your musical affections courtesy of the unrelenting, shrill, off-key renditions of Top 40 hits you perform every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Or, for all intents and purposes, every goddamn day of the week.
What is that? What's going on? Explain yourself please.
Maybe you're just misunderstanding the concept of the radio. See, it's this thing where musicians--fancy word for "song makers"--put their music so it can then be played on the airwaves---fancy word for "invisible sound lines"--and then be shared with listeners across the world. And, so far, it seems like a pretty decent model of distribution. They don't need your help. It's doing just fine.
Now I understand, with the advent of internet radio and bit torrents and cloud players, that you want to get in on this next generation of music marketing. You may think you've stumbled upon a way to make popular music even more popular. (And that process somehow involves the keen sense of timing accompanying your not-at-all disturbing pelvic gyrations.) But let me assure you, it's just not the case.
When you shriek along with that "hot new Bieber track," it doesn't make me want to listen to Justin Bieber any more than I already didn't. It just makes me want to punch you in your voice box until it spits out a cure for the audio herpes you've given my earholes. And don't get me started on the whistling...
Oh, ya know what? Fuck it. Let's talk about the whistling.
There is a time when whistling along with a song is permissable. And that time is when the song you're whistling along with features actual fucking whistling! That's it! When that Flo Rida song comes on, go ahead, let loose, go nuts, do your thing. Do it any other time and you only prove that A) you don't know the actual lyrics or B) you have nothing else to fill the vast voids of communicative silence in your life because you can't be bothered thinking of words to speak. What's next? Growling? Oinking? Elbow clapping? It's a slippery slope...is what I'm saying.
So if you'd be kind enough to leave the singing and/or whistling to the people who get paid to sing and/or whistle their songs on the radio, that would be swell. Then you can get back to doing whatever it is they still pay you to do. (I wanna say soap refiller?)
- Your coworker
So, I understand you're a music lover, eh? Well, perhaps more accurately, I hear you're a music lover. Hold on, even more accurately, I've been given undeniable proof of your musical affections courtesy of the unrelenting, shrill, off-key renditions of Top 40 hits you perform every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Or, for all intents and purposes, every goddamn day of the week.
What is that? What's going on? Explain yourself please.
Maybe you're just misunderstanding the concept of the radio. See, it's this thing where musicians--fancy word for "song makers"--put their music so it can then be played on the airwaves---fancy word for "invisible sound lines"--and then be shared with listeners across the world. And, so far, it seems like a pretty decent model of distribution. They don't need your help. It's doing just fine.
Now I understand, with the advent of internet radio and bit torrents and cloud players, that you want to get in on this next generation of music marketing. You may think you've stumbled upon a way to make popular music even more popular. (And that process somehow involves the keen sense of timing accompanying your not-at-all disturbing pelvic gyrations.) But let me assure you, it's just not the case.
When you shriek along with that "hot new Bieber track," it doesn't make me want to listen to Justin Bieber any more than I already didn't. It just makes me want to punch you in your voice box until it spits out a cure for the audio herpes you've given my earholes. And don't get me started on the whistling...
Oh, ya know what? Fuck it. Let's talk about the whistling.
There is a time when whistling along with a song is permissable. And that time is when the song you're whistling along with features actual fucking whistling! That's it! When that Flo Rida song comes on, go ahead, let loose, go nuts, do your thing. Do it any other time and you only prove that A) you don't know the actual lyrics or B) you have nothing else to fill the vast voids of communicative silence in your life because you can't be bothered thinking of words to speak. What's next? Growling? Oinking? Elbow clapping? It's a slippery slope...is what I'm saying.
So if you'd be kind enough to leave the singing and/or whistling to the people who get paid to sing and/or whistle their songs on the radio, that would be swell. Then you can get back to doing whatever it is they still pay you to do. (I wanna say soap refiller?)
- Your coworker
7/20/2012
Private, Public, Pubic: A Tutorial.
Dale,
You know what I don't get to see enough of these days? Your balls.
Thanks so much for remedying that today you disgusting, hairy, Sasquatch of a man. For future reference, the public bathroom isn't the best place to scope out "your situation." Maybe venture into a stall next time.
I truly hope your balls get violently ill from heat exhaustion. When's the last time a razor visited that general area, anyway? Did the Bulls still have Scotty Pippen? That shit's not a cloak of invisibility, either, if that's what you were hoping for.
Do me two favors: 1) downgrade those fellas from a fleece sweater to a light t-shirt and 2) start applying for as many other jobs as possible. Maybe something in 70's-themed porn.
Thanks,
Your coworker
You know what I don't get to see enough of these days? Your balls.
Thanks so much for remedying that today you disgusting, hairy, Sasquatch of a man. For future reference, the public bathroom isn't the best place to scope out "your situation." Maybe venture into a stall next time.
I truly hope your balls get violently ill from heat exhaustion. When's the last time a razor visited that general area, anyway? Did the Bulls still have Scotty Pippen? That shit's not a cloak of invisibility, either, if that's what you were hoping for.
Do me two favors: 1) downgrade those fellas from a fleece sweater to a light t-shirt and 2) start applying for as many other jobs as possible. Maybe something in 70's-themed porn.
Thanks,
Your coworker
6/29/2012
Those "Family" Photos of Yours
Hey Mike,
How's the family? It's been awhile since I've heard anything about the clan.
I bet little Darin must be, what, six feet tall by now? I tell ya, if that kid doesn't turn out to be a starter for the Knicks I'll be downright shocked! And I'm sure Emma's 5 going on 20, right? (Hopefully she's not begging you to buy her makeup just yet!) Enjoy 'em while they're young Mike because, trust me, before you know it they'll be going off to college and getting married.
Speaking of which, how's the wife? You guys still taking annual trips out to the beach? I swear every time I'm in your office I see another picture of you guys having fun in the sand, trouncing around in your matching white outfits. Living the dream! Am I right?
Literally, though, you're kind of living a dream. Seriously. Wake the fuck up, man. Those family pictures you have spread all around your office...they're not pictures of your actual family. (If you even have one, that is.) They're stock photos that you grabbed off the internet, right? I didn't realize it at first, but I'm fairly certain each and every family portrait you have in your office was pulled off Getty Images. And I can prove it:
See? Boom! Those are the two you have featured most prominently. You make sure to point 'em out to everyone 4 to 6 times a day. And, sure, you bear a passing resemblance to the "dad" in those photos, but when you get up close you can plainly see the guy has much better hair, a much smaller gut, and he's Italian. And if you had just left it at those couple of pictures, I'm sure you could've continued fooling everyone in the office. We would've all just been like, "Yeah, that Mike really gets out to the beach a lot, huh?" Even though you never seem to have a tan...
But there's more:
First, let me say props to you on sticking with the outdoor theme. That was good. But picking a more handsome man to emulate may have been your downfall. And, although I don't look at the world strictly through a colored lens, how did you not expect people to notice that your wife and your son suddenly changed ethnicity? Really man, the glare doesn't hide that. (Oh, congratulations on the baby you never told anyone about, by the way. That makes sense.) But, of course, it gets much worse than that:
I see what you were trying to do here, stuffing everyone into the background so that we'd really have to squint at the people to notice that all of them are black. If someone questioned it, you could have turned it around on them and labeled them racists, and they would have backed off for fear of being named the office bigot. But I don't think that's an option with this one:
C'mon, dude! Now I just think you're trying to get caught. You're practically daring people to point out how incredibly Asian this family is! Unless you come from a long line of Changelings, you're just being obnoxious. I realize you're a big Bruce Lee fan, but you can't think watching Enter the Dragon a few times has actually turned you into one of his kin, do you?
Listen, I'm not pointing this out to be rude or to insult you or anything like that. I'm honestly quite worried that you might be a pathological liar and, worse, you think you're part of some outreach program that employs only the blind. Let me assure you this is not the case. We all have pretty clear vision and we can all see that you're looney as fuck.
Do yourself a favor: take the photos down. Or at least be more consistent about it.
Say hi to the "kids" for me,
Your coworker
How's the family? It's been awhile since I've heard anything about the clan.
I bet little Darin must be, what, six feet tall by now? I tell ya, if that kid doesn't turn out to be a starter for the Knicks I'll be downright shocked! And I'm sure Emma's 5 going on 20, right? (Hopefully she's not begging you to buy her makeup just yet!) Enjoy 'em while they're young Mike because, trust me, before you know it they'll be going off to college and getting married.
Speaking of which, how's the wife? You guys still taking annual trips out to the beach? I swear every time I'm in your office I see another picture of you guys having fun in the sand, trouncing around in your matching white outfits. Living the dream! Am I right?
Literally, though, you're kind of living a dream. Seriously. Wake the fuck up, man. Those family pictures you have spread all around your office...they're not pictures of your actual family. (If you even have one, that is.) They're stock photos that you grabbed off the internet, right? I didn't realize it at first, but I'm fairly certain each and every family portrait you have in your office was pulled off Getty Images. And I can prove it:
See? Boom! Those are the two you have featured most prominently. You make sure to point 'em out to everyone 4 to 6 times a day. And, sure, you bear a passing resemblance to the "dad" in those photos, but when you get up close you can plainly see the guy has much better hair, a much smaller gut, and he's Italian. And if you had just left it at those couple of pictures, I'm sure you could've continued fooling everyone in the office. We would've all just been like, "Yeah, that Mike really gets out to the beach a lot, huh?" Even though you never seem to have a tan...
But there's more:
First, let me say props to you on sticking with the outdoor theme. That was good. But picking a more handsome man to emulate may have been your downfall. And, although I don't look at the world strictly through a colored lens, how did you not expect people to notice that your wife and your son suddenly changed ethnicity? Really man, the glare doesn't hide that. (Oh, congratulations on the baby you never told anyone about, by the way. That makes sense.) But, of course, it gets much worse than that:
I see what you were trying to do here, stuffing everyone into the background so that we'd really have to squint at the people to notice that all of them are black. If someone questioned it, you could have turned it around on them and labeled them racists, and they would have backed off for fear of being named the office bigot. But I don't think that's an option with this one:
C'mon, dude! Now I just think you're trying to get caught. You're practically daring people to point out how incredibly Asian this family is! Unless you come from a long line of Changelings, you're just being obnoxious. I realize you're a big Bruce Lee fan, but you can't think watching Enter the Dragon a few times has actually turned you into one of his kin, do you?
Listen, I'm not pointing this out to be rude or to insult you or anything like that. I'm honestly quite worried that you might be a pathological liar and, worse, you think you're part of some outreach program that employs only the blind. Let me assure you this is not the case. We all have pretty clear vision and we can all see that you're looney as fuck.
Do yourself a favor: take the photos down. Or at least be more consistent about it.
Say hi to the "kids" for me,
Your coworker
6/19/2012
The Smell Smelled 'Round the World
Brent,
I think you left a part of yourself in the bathroom this morning. And it's the part of you that smells really bad. You might want to go back and take care of that.
Doody-fully,
Your coworker
I think you left a part of yourself in the bathroom this morning. And it's the part of you that smells really bad. You might want to go back and take care of that.
Doody-fully,
Your coworker
6/08/2012
Give Me Some (Office) Space
Garrett,
Let's get a few things straight:
Fuckin' A,
Your coworker
P.S. Stop trying to stick those annoying pins on me. I don't want any of your stupid fucking "pieces of flair." It's not funny and if you prick me with one again it's going straight up your pee hole.
Let's get a few things straight:
- No, I don't have a case of "the Mondays." It bums me out to no end when you keep suggesting I do.
- I don't know what "PC Load Letter" means, or if that error message even comes up on our printer. In similar regard, I have no idea why it tells you there's a paper jam when there is, in fact, no paper jam.
- We don't have anything called TPS Reports around here. Please stop complaining about them as they are fictional and, thus, not worth complaining about.
- Whatever the hell it is you keep mumbling about your stapler...just stop. No one can understand you. And no one knows of your stapler's whereabouts. You probably just lost the goddamn thing.
- Yeah, I guess Michael Bolton is a no-talent ass-clown. I don't know what else you want me to say on the matter.
- And dear God, if you don't stop telling people you're going to "show that chick from Logistics my O-Face," HR is definitely going to fire you for sexual harassment.
 |
| Replace the Post-Its with my urine and this will be you if you don't shut up. |
Fuckin' A,
Your coworker
P.S. Stop trying to stick those annoying pins on me. I don't want any of your stupid fucking "pieces of flair." It's not funny and if you prick me with one again it's going straight up your pee hole.
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