a n i m a t i o n . w o r d s & p i c t u r e s . f o r u m
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Workplace EtiquetteBy: Ass-Slapper09.11.03 I can't speak for any of you, simply because I'm unsure as to how many of my fellow FSer's have sold their souls to corporate America, and subsequently spend their days trudging along through menial tasks, forever staring at the walls of their cubicle as an old prisoner at his cell barriers, wondering what happened to a life so full of promise. I am one of those corporate whores. I haven't been downgraded to drone as of yet, mainly because I haven't been at my job long enough to hate the incessant Paradise Hotel discussions of my co-workers, or become utterly frustrated by the fact that I'm doing the work of three people, for the pay of half a person. For now, I am in the middle of the ladder, fumbling between the "reserved enthusiasm" and "shit moustache from ass frenching" that we all seem to start at.  One of the fastest, most convenient ways to write your suicide note - FROM THE COMFORT OF YOUR OWN DESK! It is not the purpose of this article to complain about my job...believe it or not, thus far I love my job. Besides, I'm not sure how well received a rant about work would be, considering the fact that every FUCKING person on EARTH feels compelled to forever lament their career choice on the internet. I need money, I found a place that will pay me money to do shit, I weighed the options and accepted employment at a particular establishment, thus my choices were made by myself - I'll shut my mouth and suck it up, thanks.  Dude just wants a plasma TV. FOR FUCK'S SAKE, give the man a plasma TV! If I could Star Trek beam myself from my place of residence to my office, and back again, life would be complete - no seething hatred for humanity, no high blood pressure, no angry vein bulging on my forehead. However, reality hasn't caught up with the dream world yet - Christians still draw breath, Bush continues to be President, the mouths of gorgeous, random women continue to escape the furious purple head of my engorged cock, and I am still forced to interact with people to, at, and from work.  It's at this moment that Sally finally realises why she was hired. Atta girl, Sally...Jack that cack and earn your keep! This, of course, wouldn't be such a sore spot if people weren't such outrageously flamboyant retards. Making your way through the daily routine of work is like running an obstacle course through a sewer - your entire day is spent trudging through other people's shit and piss, and your only reward is to get out, grab a shower and a bite to eat, possibly fuck, and fall asleep. It's the little things which tend to make or break our collective sanity, and exponentially drive me closer and closer to tearing people's arms off, and stabbing them fingers-first once rigamortis sets in.  Yeah, so anyways, the hat fell off and then he bent over to get it and then...oh, trying to do some work, huh? Yeah, my buddy does that sometimes even without his hat, especially when it fell off and... BATHROOM ETIQUETTE Some would argue that North American culture has made bodily functions unnecessarily shameful. I, on the other hand, would argue that shit and piss DO NOT HAVE TO BE MAINSTREAM. The Japanese and Germans accept feces expulsion as a regular event in their collective lives, and look at what they do with it - shit in each others mouths, videotape it, and sell the end result to people that I want to decapitate with a cast iron skillet, simply for creating a market for said films. Yes, everyone takes a dump and drains their piss-pouch, but it doesn't mean that we have to accept such things as part of normal, civilized conversation...women give birth every 8 seconds on this planet, but the last thing I want to discuss is the vaginal canal being split asunder by a child's head, drenched in blood and mucous. - The Shit  HHNGH...GGGAAAHHH! YEAH! Fuckin RIGHT! WOOOO! That fucker is HISTORY! Am I right or WHAT? If I'm home alone, and I'm dropping a brown baby boy off at the pool, I'll grab the side of the bathroom counter, grit my teeth, and scream that little bastard out...I'll yell, grunt, laugh at my victory as it passes the point of no return, and weep bitterly when it stretches my sphincter to new dimensions. But when I'm at work, and I need to piss out of my ass, I approach the whole thing like Shinobi - fast, silent, and anonymous. Out of respect for my fellow workers, I keep everything as quiet as possible, and try to get the hell out of there like a fart in the wind. Its just the polite thing to do. So why do many people feel compelled to launch home shits in public bathrooms? Their audacity is matched only by the fury of their bowels, as they cry out to the heavens their pain, the glory of victory and the agony of defeat. Loud, unabated farts punctuate the aurally deafening "Sploosh" of their dinners hitting the watery depths below. Some even pound the stall door several times, as if to lessen the physical torture their bowels are subjected to. This isn't a Broadway musical, cowboy...it isn't even an episode of Jackass. My day is shitty enough without having to hear unrelenting evidence of your digestive system. Bite down on a stick, close your eyes, and wait for it to be over - your expression of anal joy kills us all inside a little more every day.  Seriously, I appreciate the attention...yes, I do want to learn how to read, but I seem to be TAKING A FAT DUMP. - The Piss It's just like sex with that cunt from school that you've wanted to fuck for years, and ultimately ruin the life of - get in, dump your juice, and get out without saying a word. Taking a leak isn't so much a detailed event as it is a stutter-step in the grand scheme of the day - like sneezing, or dropping your pen. Neither of those events warrant a co-worker standing next to you and discussing them, so why should urination?  Yeah...fucking hot out there isn't it? Yeah, I love the summer...all I need is a beer... I want to stare at the wall in front of me, piss, and get back to surfing the net for sick, twisted, depraved porn. Don't tell me how nice the weather is. Don't mention your plans for the long weekend. Don't comment on your golf game improvements. Your bladder-chatter is as welcome as being slapped in the face by a dripping black cock - it's invasive, unwarranted, and makes my task a needlessly difficult one. Save your inane discussions for your wife, who is obligated to listen to your droning, and give you sex no matter what, by virtue of marriage. Do me that favour, and you'll also be sparing me the physical and emotional effort it would take do drive your head into the top of the urinal and leave you for dead.  This is the only instance where I would love to have a conversation while pissing next to someone. LUNCH This hour is my only salvation during the day - my only chance to escape the drudgery of work, and immerse myself in my own shit. This is precisely the reason why a "lunch break" exists - to give us temporary relief from the sanity numbing process known as a work day. Well, at least, this was my assumption. How unprepared was I when confronted with the horrible truth that my free time belonged to everyone but myself?  A semi-private desk, a hot meal, and internet porn...it's the modern work oasis. - The Meal I'm so sorry that you brought a soggy roast beef sandwich to work for lunch. Believe me, I understand how difficult it must be to wake up 5 MINUTES EARLIER and make yourself a proper meal out of ALREADY COOKED LEFTOVERS. I am sympathetic to your plight, in that the day I am forced to ingest a soggy sandwich for lunch because of my laziness is the day I make a nutritious meal out of the spanking end of a 12-Gauge.  So here we are - you have your dogshit on rye, I have my delicious home made pasta dish. We both understand who has the good meal, and who will be forced to ingest mustard-laced AIDS. Do we really need to discuss it further? Do you need to forcibly enter my work area and spew forth comments like "Wow, sure does smell good!" and "Lucky you! All I have is a sandwich - you must be rich!" in order to back up the already established conclusion that my lunch is better? Think of this as a grade school lesson...go sit in the corner with the final product of your sloth and idiocy, think about how you could have done things differently, and let me enjoy my fucking meal in peace, ass-clown. - The Microwave  No tool in the office environment sees so much work in so little time as the microwave. Within an hour, countless hoards of people clamor around this thing, waiting impatiently for three minutes to pass while they discuss the chances of the Leafs winning the cup, just as they discussed yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. Knowing how important this tool is during lunchtime, I've created a couple of helpful suggestions to help the whole process go smoothly.  NEVER get between fat people and their only means of preparing a meal. 1. Don't Walk Away You set the timer for two minutes and go back to your desk. Who are you - Bill Gates? Are the phones ringing off the hook? Do millions of shareholders rely on your every breath? When there's a lineup for the microwave, a meal sitting inside a non-functioning oven is equivalent to tearing someones heart out of their chest cavity, and leaving it on the doorstep of the victim's next of kin with a polaroid of the donor stapled to it. It's two minutes out of your fucking lives, people - just stand there and wait like everyone else, and help the process along.  Chances are excellent that this prick will one day be your boss. 2. Accept the Fact That You're an Asshole If you have walked away from the oven, and come back to find your meal sitting on the counter, stop for a moment; breathe, relax, and remember that you were an asshole for walking away from the microwave in the first place. In order to keep the assembly line moving, one of your fellow co-workers took your completed meal out, and placed it on the counter for you, thus eliminating a step from your lunchtime process. No harm done, all is right with the world...take your food and move on. Should you get upset at those around you for removing your food, recall the fact that you're a stinky, gaping asshole for leaving your meal there unattended in the first place, appreciate the fact that there are many hungry people who do not feel compelled to have their schedules or lives revolve around you, take your meal, and shut the fuck up. WORKDAY INTERACTION  So me and the Mrs. went to the cottage last week...oh, shit, are you trying to do something? Yeah, I should be working, too! Anyways, me and the Mrs... Believe it or not, I actually enjoy accomplishing things at work - it gives me a sense of purpose, of being part of a team and a bigger picture, not to mention it helps the days go by a little quicker. Now, I don't mind the odd drop-by to chat - such levity is welcome - but I'm still waiting for ONE FUCKING PERSON to bring up anything even REMOTELY interesting to discuss. - The Leafs  Go Sundin! Fuckin...y-yeah! Woooh! I can't believe he just broke some obscure record that only I know about! I'm so FUCKING DRUNK! I love the Maple Leafs...the age and history of the storied team, the clout of the Stanley Cup, the incredible passion that fans express, and the willingness of the biggest stars to sacrifice money to play for the blue and white all create an electricity which is difficult to escape, and glorious to be around. However, between work, school, and family, hockey plays a relatively minor role in my life. How about yours? Should I care about the fact that you always go to the games? Than you hit the pub every Saturday night to watch them play and get fuck-faced with your friends? Yes, I saw the game...yes, I know they could play better...no, I don't need to be reminded of it EVERY SINGLE FUCKING DAY. And if I EVER meet someone at work who nonchalantly bothers me with opinions on who is better than Rick Vaive, I will kick them in the throat so many times that I'll ruin their shit twice over. - Reality Television  Oh my GOD! Did you see Brandon kiss Louise on Paradise Whorehouse? Remember when Frank ate placenta off of Jill's tits on CockSuckers 4? How about Johnny getting voted off the space shuttle even though he had an alliance with some fucking crack-whore that nobody remembers the name of? Don't you just think Travis and Mark make the CUTEST couple on Ass-Sex Annihilation? What's that, Ass-Slapper...looks shiny, like a nickel plated handgun! Why are you pointing it at my FAT, SWEATY FUCKING FACE?  How's this for reality, Spanky? I remember sitting there one day, getting kicked right in the lower jaw by a horse while a midget power stapled my nuts to my ass cheeks, thinking to myself, "This fucking hurts...but its better than watching reality TV!" When bringing up a reality show in office conversation, please keep in mind that your attention to such drivel brings you pretty much as far away from intelligent as possible, allowing retardation to give you a sloppy kiss on the cheek (Unless its Joe Schmoe...because that show is just damn funny.) Those shows aren't reality, friends - they're completely unrealistic scenarios, populated by societies lowest common denominator, all of whom are clamoring for any break into the showbiz world that they can find. And yet, the topic dominates every day conversation, literally dropping the I.Q. quotient of those discussing it like unwanted babies out of the wombs of Nigerian women. Instead, try inviting fellow reality sluts over to your desk via email - that way, I won't have to cram your fat chops full of "Shut the fuck up, womb-fart!" when a desire for reality TV chat forces it open. - Personal Trials and Tribulations  Oh my GOD...how could he have sex with her and then throw the used condom at me? At least you care enough about me to listen...wh...who are you? I suppose that sharing a work environment with others gives certain people the feeling that they're "close" and on "friendly terms." As a result, certain mouthy people feel compelled to approach others - even people who they rarely give the time of day to - and spill out the tragic events of their lives. More tragic still is their automatic assumption that anyone endeavors to give two shits about the mundane details of their wasted existence. I'm glad your boyfriend left you for another woman. Your mom has breast cancer? Wow...do you think she can give some to you so you can both fuck off from my life? Incredible - your friend drank that much alcohol and fucked those two guys behind the club? So that means she's as big a whore as you now, right? Due to the danger of these egocentric cock wranglers not having the mental capability of deciphering my message, I asked a friend of mine to work out an equation that even the most dim-witted of people can understand  You being a Drama-Queen fuckwad + Me having my own problems = NO ONE GIVES A SHIT. As a helpful guide, I have compiled a list of acceptable discussion topics to approach co-workers with when you decide that, instead of sitting at your desk with a rifle in your mouth, you'd like to spread your misery to others: - Office Rumours  Because the personal pain and emotional destruction of fellow workers is REAL entertainment, and aids in you pointing at them and laughing when you see them finish the coffee, and not make more. Please note that this is different than you explaining your own life details - if it's behind your back, its interesting news...if it's from your mouth, it's just being a whiny bitch. - Porn  Bad meeting? Overworked and underpaid? Stare into those deep eyes and tell me you aren't already feeling better. When has porn NOT been the catalyst of a good conversation? No matter how miserable your day is going, how bad things are at home, or how close you are to being fired, your day immediately brightens when a co-worker stops by and starts off with "Man, I downloaded the BEST video last night off of Kazaa..." or "Hey, have YOU ever seen a thirteen year old Thai girl fuck a walrus? - Christians  The son of God is back, and this time, it's the Romans who'll be swinging from the cross. Mary Magdelin is rockin' by his side, and Judas wants to cram some silver coins down a Roman throat...Crucify THIS, mother fucker! These guys are the best. I'm going to hell, and they relish the opportunity to tell me such things as I concentrate on Flash animations and Powerpoint presentations. I like to have fun with them - I tell them how Jesus was a fag, how he was a pacifist pussy who couldn't handle the heat, and how God is such an unrealistic and unfounded belief that I have adopted a Chicken Teriyaki sub from Subway as my God, simply because she's more tangible than their deity - not to mention delicious!.  I won't say anything as contrived as "Stand up with me and fight the corporate powers that be!" Why would I? Sure, work sucks, but I'm man enough to admit that I like money. More importantly, I like the things that I can buy with money, like video games, computer stuff, and food. I am a cog in the wheel of modern consumerism, and I fucking LOVE it. All I can tell you is that my obviously materialistic drive to acquire more toys and goodies will keep me going to work every day, and taking my lumps in the process. But if the offenders described above don't clean up their shit - and soon - there'll be a trail of blood, organs, skeletal structures and stillborn fetus' behind me on my daily commute. |
