Posts Tagged ‘i hate you’

Of all the times for my phone not to have a camera…

December 23, 2009

To adopt a more “positive outlook on life” (shut the fuck up), I’ve decided to share An Awesome Thing From This Week ™. This week:

My cowworker (you read right. It isn’t a typo. She’s a fucking cow.) wrote a poem about our place of employment and left it on the table in the breakroom. 

Yep.  

A poem.

A motherfucking poem.  Jumpin’ jesus on a pogo stick. I can’t make this shit up. 

And yep. My phone doesn’t have a camera so I have no way of getting it out into the world, where it ought to be, save for texting a line of it every day to my bff, with the hopes that she will transcribe in careful calligraphy strokes onto handmade parchment in purple ink crushed from the shells of rare snails.  

Because the poem is seriously. Just. That. Good. 

Stay tuned, faithful readers. All 5 of you. 

PS: Also this week, a 9 year-old told me her dream in life is to sew clothes and give them away to poor people, and that this is a plan she and her friends discussed. OMG. Seriously, my heart grew like 100x like that scene from the Grinch Who Stole Christmas because this fucking kid made my day. 

But whatevs, I know the 5 of you don’t read to hear what fucking makes me happy.

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Top 10 Signs You’re On Your Way to a Nifty Work-Related Drinking Habit

December 17, 2009

10. Your (few nice) coworkers no longer worry that you’re being beaten by a significant other  when they see the bruises on your bare legs on Casual Friday. They think it is hilarious when you say you fell in the shower whilst skunked and tangled in your socks, and have instead chosen to believe that you’re just a clumsy person who took up rollerblading over the weekend. 

9. It is only Tuesday and you’ve already gone through half of the big bottle of Absolut because it was on sale at the liquor store. AND it was somehow cheaper than the jug of Kalatchnakayakovakillmeplease with the E-Z pour spout. 

8. You don’t even like vodka, you like whiskey. But you were too buzzed to get to Trader Joes (2 Buck Chuck, y’all!) and you’re watching your pennies these days, so vodka it is. 

7. You drink the vodka straight while watching Intervention and wishing that you could get enough of an addiction that would merit 60-90 days in a treatment facility only because it would mean:

a. not having to go to work

b. maybe even seeing if your family/friends actually care about you enough to make fools of themselves on national tv. 

c. guilting someone into paying for a nice Indian dinner-all the courses, dammit-  to celebrate your release. 

6. You find an old bottle of blackberry liquor and peppermint schnaps way in the back of the fridge behind the Frank’s and your roommate’s mashed potatoes. Party tiiiiime!

5. (But seriously, look at me. Can you picture this on rollerblades?)

4. You read anorexic blogs in hopes of developing an eating disorder if only it would stop you from drinking so damn much. 

3. But at least vodka only has about 60 calories per shot. 

2. And if you cut the vodka with water, you can totally stretch it out til like Thursday. 

1. Fusck it, fucking wheres the tAcoBell and why donnt they fukking deliver?

The light at the end of the tunnel

September 15, 2009

Dear ********,

 This letter is to give two weeks’ notice of my intent to leave my position as Office Manager/HR Assistant with (Organization Which Doesn’t Deserve Your Generous Funds).  I have decided to accept another position where I have a chance for professional growth and where my skills will be better utilized. 

I’d like to wish you and your organization all the best in your future endeavors. 

Sincerely,
ME

Zebra Stripes

September 9, 2009

Dear Asshole,

You’re a prick. A dick. An asshole. A jerk, a tool, a douchebag. There’s no getting around it. True, you come off as a semi-decent person in the beginning. Assholes always do. But that decency is just a thin layer of slime over the slug that you really are. If I could drown you in salt and beer, believe me, I would have a thousand times over. 

When the former office manager – who reported to you for 3 years- died, you sent out an intern to buy a card for the family and told me to just pick some bunch of flowers, but not to spend too much.  You call me into your office every month or so to tell me how much I suck at life, the universe and everything, but never quite get a toe over the line where I could actually do something about it and sue this you and this fucking organization for abuse or harrassment.  You tell me my co workers don’t like me but refuse to tell me who or what was said exactly, and expect this to be some sort of motivation that improves my performance.  You tell me I suck at my job, yet fire the person who was “more qualified” than I am. You eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, check their email and listen in on their phone calls.  

You’re an asshole. I hate you. Simple statement of facts. I know now that before I was here, you were an asshole. I know that after I’m gone, you will be an asshole. A zebra doesn’t change its stripes so I don’t expect you to ever stop being an asshole.  

My only hope is that I made your life just that much more annoying and difficult. You’re small and petty and let things like that get to you. Every time you send me a snotty email when there is no coffee or milk, it’s really no skin off my back. You think these things happen on by accident? Nah. They’re just part of my larger plan to piss you off. And I know I’ve succeeded. 

Then I smile, just for a second. 

I hope you choke. I really, really do,
*******

Youth Gone Wild

September 4, 2009

Dear Asshole,

Check it.

Since I was born they couldn’t hold me down. Another misfit kid, another burned-out town. Never played by the rules I never really cared. My nasty reputation takes me everywhere.


I look and see it’s not only me. So many others have stood where I stand.  We are the young so raise your hands.  

They call us problem child. We spend our lives on trial. We walk an endless mile.  We are the youth gone wild.  We stand and we won’t fall. We’re the one and one for all. The writing’s on the wall. We are the youth gone wild. 

Boss screamin’ in my ear about who I’m supposed to be. Getcha a 3-piece Wall Street smile and son you’ll look just like me.  I said “Hey man, there’s something that you oughta know. I tell ya Park Avenue leads to Skid Row.”  I look and see it’s not only me. We’re standin’ tall ain’t never a doubt. We are the young, so shout it out 

They call us problem child. We spend our lives on trial. We walk an endless mile. We are the youth gone wild. We stand and we won’t fall.  We’re the one and one for all.  The writing’s on the wall.  We are the youth gone wild.

FUCK THIS SHIT. 

*******

X-ray spex

September 4, 2009

Dear ********,

When you try to behave like a decent human being towards me or anyone else in this office, you should know I can see right through you.  

In the animal world, baring your teeth is a sign of aggression. Rest assured that is what I’m doing when I say good morning to you. 

FUCK YOU. FUCKING DIE YOU FUCKING FUCK. 
*******

With friends like you, who needs friends

September 2, 2009

Dear *****,

When I started here, you were my friend. 
A fairly good one upon whom I could depend. 
You helped me get a job here; 
You said it would help me get a new career. 

And I was dumb enough to believe,
that nothing else was up your sleeve. 
I wanted just to get off the dole, 
being laid off for 5 months and in the hole. 

But that’s the last “nice” thing you did for me.
Though on that, I doubt you’ll agree. 
You’re a cunt, through and through. 
They’re assholes here, and so are you. 

You forgot to mention so much about this place, 
that someone would always be in my face. 
Micromanage, complain, nitpick and then,
talk about it behind my back again and again. 

Zero respect from the staff. 
“Valued employee?” Yeah, that’s a laugh.
People don’t even bother to correctly spell my name
but from me they demand the same? 

Reporting to 7? 10?  bosses all day long,
whose demands put me in a game of ping pong. 
So fucking sick of their conflicting demands, 
and of you watching from the stands. 

Win a battle, lose the war. 
Turns out, you too are my supervisor. 
Fuck, if you mentioned that before I came, 
I’d have laughed so hard you’d have burst into flame. 

NO, I don’t want to meet up with you for a drink. 
NO, I won’t care what the rest of our friends think. 
I honestly hate you, you self-centered whore. 
You deserve all that is coming to you and then some more. 

I’m glad I’ve seen your true make. 
your whole persona is just that: fake. 
I hope you break more bones, you fucking shrew. 
I really, truly, doodley-do.

VIOLENT TEMPER

September 1, 2009

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Understandable

August 31, 2009

 

Dear HR Department:  

I hate you. I can’t do anything about it but drink heavily and vent to my friends. Oh yeah, and leave in 2 weeks. But before then,  I want to leave you with my parting wishes. 

******: It is so hard, given that I hate you so much. I don’t call you a cunt for nothing. I know in the past I wished you caught various diseases, were mangled in a horrible plane crash in Uganda or maybe got audited by the IRS. 

But then I found the best thing I could wish for you. 

May you have a dead-end, low-paying, brain-numbing, unimaginative, thankless job where you get no respect, have no control over your duties, are micromanaged by an idiot douchebag, have no opportunity for advancement, use no creative thinking skills, do the same thing over and over and fucking over again and deal with assholes who look down their noses at you out of a misguided European superiority complex, sense of entitlement classist contempt. 

In short, may you become an Office Manager. 

******: I don’t know you. But your claw hand weirds me out. May you learn the wonders of depilatory, because curly black hairs on a lady’s chin just skeeve me out. 

******: May you make the best of your brittle bone disease and break a few more phalanges, a tibia, and maybe crack that thick skull of yours. 

With kindest wishes,
*******

Throwing the lemonade

August 27, 2009

RIP Bill. RIPDear Asshole,

I want to ask you a question that the late, great Bill McNeil once posed to me, when I was a wee tyke.

“Have you ever heard the expression, ‘When life gives you lemons, make lemonade, and then throw it in the face of the person who gave you the lemons until they give you the oranges you originally asked for?’”

I love Bill McNeil. Who doesn’t love Bill McNeil. He has gotten me through some tough times, that man. And now, he’ll get me through these next 2 weeks.

Anyway, I thought I should give you the heads up (pun intended) because I’m doing that right now. Only by “lemons” I mean you gave me hydrogen chloride and water. And by “lemonade” I mean hydrochloric acid. 

Potato, potahtoe.

Whatevs,

*******