What You Are Laughing At

Why I Should Be Able To Drink At Work

1. Dipsh*t behind me is whistling a lot. Actually, a LOT of people are whistling a lot today. Imagine what kind of stock price this place would have if people, you know, actually planned and thought their way from pointless meeting to pointless meeting? "Let's see, today, instead of making superfluous noise, I'm going to think of a business-affecting agenda item to keep up with that kiss-ass Geoff Lott, who seems to think we never bring anythiTWEEE TWOOO TWEEEEEEEEEEE, TWEE WEE WEE, WOO WEE WEEEEEEEEEE WOO WO-EE-EE-EE-EE-EE. Oh good, Cheryl's got more candy at her desk!"
2. Allergina, my cube neighbor, recently returned from surgery on/to/in her sinus cavities and general nasal passages. She needed it because she had her head up her butt. I kid. For the past year that I have sat next to her, I have endured a daily report of her health. It's a pissing match of who hurts more when they pee. Sinuses, back, shoulders, scalp, skin, moustache wax-burn, chapped lips, bloating, gas, whatever it is that can annoy but (sadly) cannot kill a person, she's got at least an undiagnosed trifecta of ailments on any given day.
   So I'm hearing her explain her surgery to a number of people throughout the day, and it's f*cking FOUL. She'll use the building-wide e-mail to ask who took her advertisement for silk flower arrangements off the 3rd-floor bulletin board and send out a "totally the NSS Team!"-related Dilbert cartoon, but gawd forbid that Bubble Girl get a blog to recap the atrocity that has been her mucosa nervosa. I've heard the words "blood, dribble, drips, stint, shunt, blockage, widen, white-ish, thick, pus," and "saline nasal douche" in various combinations throughout the morning. I'm leaving at 2pm.
3. Today is my 6th Anniversary at this hole. With two giant headaches as aforementioned tripping me up, I think I should be able to show folks what it means to be truly annoying. I have allergies to half a bottle of Jager. I will be THAT GUY who crapped in Boston Rahn's garbage can, I gar-own-tee it.

Good times, good times.

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My Non-Funny Blog.