Monday, March 31, 2008

Seriously?

Dear Thieving Cunt,

Hmmm, stealing from a Blog.

Interesting. I mean, I get it. Munky’s fucking hilarious. She makes vulgarity eloquent. She gives an hysterical and vicious voice to my own misanthropy. She’s obviously a better writer than you are. It’s pretty obvious which writing is hers. A second grader could figure it out with some cutting and pasting and frankly, your own words, both of them, sound positively illiterate. So, I get it, I do. You suck and she’s the opposite of suck.

God, at least try to paraphrase, you useless git.

C.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

135 More Sleeps

Goodbye Chatty Cathy.
Goodbye MB.
Goodbye guy beside me who manages, against the laws of physics, to slurp solid food.
Goodbye dreads that leave me wide awake with acid reflux every Sunday night.
Goodbye Goodbye Goodbye.

I'm going to Grad School.

Suh. Weet.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Perhaps I Wasn't Clear

Chatty Cathy,

Perhaps I wasn't clear. Sometimes it's hard to tell what I'm saying when I'm grinding my teeth. So, let's try this again:

TIPS FOR SETTLING INTO THE CUBE ACROSS FROM MINE:

1. I drink a lot of coffee. I know I do. You don't need to point it out. And while I don't need feel the need to explain myself, I will because I actually drink all this coffee for you. It's to keep me awake, so I don't drift off into a restless tortured sleep at my desk, dreaming about giant, pot-bellied, polo shirt wearing, goateed corprobots sucking my soul out through my heart with logo emblazoned bendy straws. That dream makes me unhappy. And given that I've recently taken up kickboxing and that I usually picture your face at the end of my boxing glove, my being unhappy is a direct threat to your physical health. So just be grateful and stop counting the empty cups on my desk out loud.

2. I don't care. I just don't. I don't care why you just did that. I don't care how you came to that conclusion. I especially don't care about the entire history, starting before God was born and finishing at the end of your sentence, of all the legislation ever governing that particular thing you think. I don't. Just sign the fucking letter and let me go home.

3. At your age, you really shouldn't bolt out of your chair and run like a bunny to wish My Boss (MB) good morning, the second she walks in. I know you've been working out, EVERYONE knows you've been working out, but with the waist of your paints almost under your arm pits, you might wedgie yourself into a workers comp claim moving that fast.

4. You also shouldn't bend so far down to kiss her ass. That must be hell on your back. I would suggest yoga for that but, you've told everyone that yoga is new age bullshit that's just another thing we (on the average 30 year old) girls just like to spend money on.

5. Brush your teeth. Seriously.

6. You have horrible grammar. The kind that sounds impressive to people who haven't been to University: big words that sound smart, which you clearly don't know the meanings of; the use of reflexive pronouns where they don't belong (myself does not equal me); bagillions of sentence clauses for what should be a two word answer. Just stop, stop before I correct you with red pen marks all over your face.

I'm just trying to help. Like you are, I'm sure.
C.

Thursday, March 06, 2008

Dear New Office Chatty Cathy:

As an old guy at the office I think I should show you the ropes. The ones I'd like to tie you to your chair and leave you in the elevator with. For your own safety, please take note of the following:

1. Recently losing 16lbs does not qualify you as a cardiologist; nutritionist or my mother. Please stop commenting on what I eat and why it is wrong.

2. If I ask you a question that requires a yes or no answer, please answer yes or no. Do not proceed to verbally vomit everything you know about anything.

3. Stop referring to everyone with tits as girls.

4. If you ever hide my keys again, in an effort to 'teach me a lesson' about leaving things on my desk, I will break every bone in your hand.

I hope this list helps you settle in.

C.

Fresh Start

It's time for more science, more wiseass and more caustic misanthropy.