Things I Hate: Office Edition

I know you feel me on these, darlings. Let's hate together. Let's love hating together. Naked.

• Grown women who covet stuffed animals.
• Related: Grown women who display stuffed animals and cutesy figurines at their desk. This is not going to get you a husband, girls. And while you're at it, get rid of the plushies from your bedroom, too. Nothing tells a man "Run like the wind" quite like staring into Nemo's dead, plastic eyes while plowing the HR girl.
• The office douche-anova. If I don't fall all over you on my first day, I must be a lesbian. Or, pardon me, 'carpet muncher'.
• When someone finds it perfectly acceptable to let me listen to their diarrhea-induced anal squirts and gurgles. Have a little shame, people. And please-- don't grunt.
  
• The ever-present Asshole with a Bluetooth.
• When management-types say things like: "Getting our ducks in a row", "Playing a little catch-up","Let's touch base", and "Coming down the pipeline".
• Self-righteous kitchen notes. I know my mother doesn't work here, bitch. I left my mug in the sink because I'm fucking lazy.
  

Also-- that's not coffee. That's liquid apathy.

Freud and Marx Were Right-- We Fetishize Everything

In my search for Cakewrecks, I typed in 'cake' and Google auto-predicted that I might be instead looking for Cake Farts. Sure, Google, you've never led me astray before. I trust you. I'll just click on this link and....

Hmmm. I see. Excuse me, I have to go jump off my balcony now.

WARNING: Links to adult content. Not for the faint of heart. Please don't watch this. Ever.

http://www.cakefarts.com/

Hey, Predictive Text!

You fucking suck!

Or, if I hadn't corrected you, "Your ducking pucker"!

Over the years, I have had my phone in my pocket right next to my no-no bits, I've answered it post-coitus, and I've even sent a text message on the toilet.

But even with these levels of deep intimacy, I have yet to figure out the intricacies that make up my phone's predictive text function.
Ok, I'll admit it. I like to swear. A lot. perhaps it's not so much a fondness as a nervous tick. I digress.

When I choose to express my discontent for a grade I have received from my post-secondary professor, I feel that it is not some software application writer's decision how I express it.
No matter how you slice it, "That's apricgq haven't medication a ducking a!" just doesn't express my fury like "That asshair gave me a fucking B!".

Because, let's face it, folks, there is no such thing as an apricgq. They went extinct the same year as the entaidbag.

No one, nowhere, wants to "Dual" your "Aunt" all night long, nor are they interested in seeing your "Thus" shake like a "Solarmid" picture.

Sigh. I guess I'll just have to go back to Multi Tap.

That's what she said.

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