03.30.08

Stupid, lazy co-workers and their "Haterade."

There's nothing to do here, at work, aside from sit around and chit-chat about daily events and sports. Having a fetish for cleanliness, I begin organizing items on desks, transforming cluttered mixed goods into neat, separate piles. Of course, my loser of a manager, who speaks in a condescending manner toward his employees in order to make him feel better about his life, has to make a comment about my working. He rants off loudly about how silly I look and tells me they have medication to fix my OCD.

First off, OCD isn't a real disease. People who say they have OCD are only starving for attention. OCD is just another term created by the lazy man to raise their self esteem, as well as to have a way to downplay their laziness. Doctors and prescription medicine makers say OCD is a disease because if we eliminate disease, they will be out of work and will have to join the rest us at McDonald's or Wal-Mart.

Anyway. Back to my complaint.

My "depressed about life" manager rants on about my habit, making fun of me for a good five minutes until his cell phone rings. How is this fucker going to use his cell phone to talk to his buddy about where they're going to go out drinking during work hours when just the other day, he complained to me about using my cell phone on paid time to talk to a relative who I hadn't spoken with in over a year, of which a recent death in the family was the reason for the call. Shit just ain't right. (My manager deserves to suck a fat one and get cock stabbed in the face, at least twice a day.) Meanwhile, I'm getting paid minimum wage and working more productively than my manager and half of the employees combined. I'm going to leave this job soon, and when I do, I am going to whip out my junk and skeet-skeet, mother fucker, from the window to the wall.


Confucius say, 'If money root of all evil, who want to be good?' -C. Farley