Best Fucking Email Of The Day

Every once in a while, I receive an email at The Office that makes me laugh so hard, I start making sounds only animals can hear and pee I in my pants a little bit too.

I was having one of those days where you swear its a Monday after a long weekend but it is really a Tuesday and you feel like you should be awarded a medal if everyone leaves at 5, alive and head still attached to their body. To go along with that mania, the office crazy pants was on her millionth day in a row where she talks like a four year old girl, turns every conversation into a conversation about her mess of a life, and made the grandiose statement at the weekly department meeting, "I can shower in 14 days."  Yes, that happened.  My eye roll was equally grandiose and I thought my baby blues were going to roll into my head, carve out a space in my lower brain, and hibernate there for the rest of the winter.

So as I sat on the cube farm, driving my desk, listening to crazy pants cackle like a witch who lost her broom, this gem hit my inbox:

I have the best fucking friends.

Now, make me fucking care.

Another Casualty Of My Snobbery

Dear Partylite:

We are over.  It is official.  I am ending this relationship today.  This is where we get divorced.

For twenty years I have loved you, I have defended you, I have stated that while your prices were high, your quality was beyond reproach.  I proclaimed from mountain tops that your scented wax and candle holders were the best there is.  And that you smelled like yummy goodness. And I do not just go around calling things yummy or good.

For the last 18 months I have pondered my affinity for you.  It has not been easy.  You have become even more expensive and increasingly styleless...

There was a time when your scents were amazing and a small votive could fill a room with the smell of yummy goodness.  Now you smell like wax.  Wax flavoured wax.  Which is neither yummy or good.

Your wicks are off centred and you burn badly because of it.  There is sooting on my roof because of it.  Who are you to make me get on a ladder to wash my roof?

And this consultant that sells you to me, even though I have always known she is a crazy bitch, she has crossed the line.  She demands that I start to sell  you.  I do not want to sell you, I want to own you.  I do not want to hear about her super crazy dramatic divorce or have her taking even crazier and more dramatic calls from her kids at my house when she is supposed to be there selling you to me.  That is supposed to be our time.  Not her time for divorce drama and pyramid schemes.

Partylite, I cannot make excuses for you any more.

We are done.

Over.

Through.

Random Sauce, Part One

I am not a fan of Justin Bieber.  I want to fill my ears with concrete whenever I hear his voice.  But I was absolutely a fan of what he did when someone hacked his Facebook or Twitter account (does it really matter which one it was?  No.).  The Biebs tweeted the phone number of the kid who hacked his account and said something like, "Yo its Justin, call me."  And the fans got the Bieber Fever.  Say hacker boy, has your phone stopped ringing yet?

~~~~~

If you have extensions or a weave, please do the following: pay the money to get it done properly and wash that shit regularly because I am tired of smelling your nasty stank, especially when you try to stand on top of me.

~~~~~

Stop standing on top of me.  This is my space.  You have your own.

~~~~~

Understand that when you speak to me like I am stupid, I am going to call you out on it.  Every time.  I am not an idiot, I am not "special needs" and even if I were, I do not need to be spoken to like I have the i.q. of dirt.

~~~~~

Yelling a conversation across the hall to a co-worker who has an office that is less than fifteen feet away from you makes me want to get homicidal on your lazy, fat, chair-bound ass.  Pick up the phone or get up and speak to them.  Enough with the noise pollution.

~~~~~

Want to see crazy?  Hang out near a bank's ATM machine at 6:30 AM.  Cuh.  Ray.  Zee.  Don't ask how I know, just know that I do.

~~~~~