Nobody knows my reputation.

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

Sick Ticket

I'm sick of working with serial killers, man.

It is not necessary for you to creep the hell outta me every time you walk into my cube. And why are you standing back there, breathing so hard I can hear it? And why does it STINK from three feet away?? And why did you send me an email just to come all the way back here to TELL me that you sent me an email?? WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM???

But that's frickin Fitz for you. He can't even pretend to be a normal human being. If you say hello to him in the hallway he scurries away like a forest creature. But ten minutes later, he's all Bob Hope with the corny jokes. Dude, get OUT of here!

It's even worse if you're female. He doesn't know how to look AT you when he's speaking to you so he'll pick some part of your anatomy to fixate on instead, "Can you print out another copy of this for me?" Um, my leg can't operate a laser printer, you sociopath.

For real, he has no idea how to even approach a woman. Yet he's married with teenage kids?? No way did this guy push up on a broad without her phoning authorities. We're all positive he bought his wife over the internet.

Lord, here he comes AGAIN!!!!


Advanced beyond all that you can possibly comprehend with 100% of your brain.

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