or so he says…
“Got into it with my boss today when he asked me to “please stop making mixed drinks in common areas when we have clients in the office.” I told him he might as well ask me to stop breathing, and he acted like that wasn’t a proper response. He wanted me to make a “promise” that I wouldn’t do it again or something. Then he got mad at me because I kept saying “I promise” while making air quotes and popping my eyebrows up and down. He doesn’t tell Big Lisa from Accounting to not emotionally eat in the common areas when there’s clients around, and that sure as hell would scare me off if I were them. What wouldn’t scare me is some TOTAL BADASS mixing up Rita’s on a coffee table and playing “That Smell” by Skynyrd while I was getting an office tour. Oh well. Can’t spell BOSS without B.O., that’s what I always say.”
Really? Is that what you always say? I wouldn’t be surprised if he told me he was fired 6 months ago and on the verge of being homeless at this point.
that just occured:
HIM: “Last poop could be best described as “Southwestern.””
HIM: “No it was more of a color thing. Lots of dusty browns. Some dark purples. Are you familiar with Georgia O’Keeffe’s work?”
ME: Dark purples? Are you dying?
HIM: “No it’s just my passive-aggressive liver trying to send me signals like a bad girlfriend. Just shut down already if you’re so mad, pussy!”
ME: Good luck with that.
HIM: “Luck is when preparation meets opportunity. Remember that.”
Another important life lesson from a dying man.
Colorful and frightening.
From our resident money hungry capitalist monster…
“I’ve been stewing on Obama’s State of the Union for a couple days now and here’s my take– Some pretty solid stuff. I think the “Walk Every Kid to School” program sounds promising, the “Double Pay for All Ineffectual and Surly Government Workers” plan is tremendous, and his whole thing about “Free Pizza Fridays” totally rules. And it gave me an idea. Everyone’s talking about how you should invest in gold because the economy’s in the shitter for good and so on, but I think I’m onto a better idea, and you can invest now if you want. Ready?
That’s right, tissues. Tissues are a commodity, just like gold, and people are gonna need them WAY MORE than gold in the coming years. Just think about all the crying and masturbating everyone’s going to be doing as the economy gets worse and worse and worse. People will need to wipe their sadness and shame somewhere, and boom! There we are– two dudes who literally bought ALL THE TISSUES IN AMERICA. And guess what motherfuckers? Prices just went up. Hundred bucks a box you sad piece of shit! I have a Junior Investment Plan that starts at $500, or you could just send me some pictures of the tired naked girls you keep in the Roofie Room and we’ll call it even. Deal? Deal.”
"Hahahaha. Tired naked girls. That's a good one."
Just do it! He sent me this at 3AM his time last night:
“Hung out with some bohemian types tonight and met a man named Jerome who’s dream it was to start his own mouthwash company. He even had a bottle of his secret recipe (the first ingredient was, according to Jerome, “an old bottle of mouthwash I found”) in his windowless van. Did I try some? Of course I did! If a man with dreadlocks named Jerome asks you to try his “homemade, aged mouthwash,” and can only tell you 4 of the 9 ingredients, you say yes. You don’t want to live with regrets, and we regret the things we DIDN’T DO, not the things we did. Although when I had to pull over to puke on the ride home, I suppose I kind of regretted it.”
He included this drawing as well:
I see some flaws in this marketing plan already...
A few hours after his last email, he sent this. Sorry, I was failing a pop quiz. Who has pop quizzes? Dickheads…
“When you get older, I’ll teach you about Little Sisters for your fraternity– how to spot them, recruit them, and encourage them. Little Sisters will do things like F Twirl another girl’s J Crack while the third one’s in corner doing an H Bomb with her T Circles. Good stuff.”
Anybody wanna guess what an “F Twirl” is?