Monday, October 23, 2006

I love the smell of hating you in the morning

…You respond to the common Monday morning greeting of how was your weekend with, oh I didn’t have a weekend I spent it working. Oh well look at you working all weekend, you must be so proud that you’ve sacrificed your life for a corporation that doesn’t care about you. We all get it, you work so hard, your life is so tragic, not to mention that it just happens to be about the time that raises and bonuses are decided, I’m sure that has nothing to do with you working the weekend then making sure everyone knows about it and I’m sure it has nothing to do with me hating you.

…You leave the newspaper in the bathroom stall as either a signal of your laziness or as a poor attempt of a nice gesture. You are either a typical American and just leave your trash wherever you finish it or you think you were doing us all a favor by providing reading material. I can only speak for myself here, but I am in no way touching a newspaper that you handled while pooping. That paper was far too close to your naked balls and poopy stained hands and even closer to my hate.

…You enter through a door just as someone else is leaving, the other person (let’s just say me for argument’s sake) is the one that physically opens the door, you are the one that is entering on a free ride, yet do not defer to the other person to go first, do say thank you for opening the door, and do not give the required mumbled excuse me, while looking down of course because this is a bathroom after all and this is my hate.

…You are a cell phone salesman. I think the sleezy speaker salesman has now been replaced by the sleezy cell phone salesman. You know exactly who you are, you are eurotrash, typically some eastern European country, you listen to only techno, you double as a promoter for the hot new club, you drive a car you can’t afford, you go through a bottle of cologne a week because you see no use in showering twice a day or once for that matter. When someone asks you about a phone you say oh that’s the best, then the same person asks you about the phone right next to it and you say oh that’s the best, then that very same person asks about the phone right next to that and you say, oh that’s the best, and then the same person asks me about my hate and I say oh that’s you.

…You wear sweatpants to a strip club. I know, I know what’s the point of getting a lap dance while wearing jeans. I think I speak for everyone when I say that you have no business walking around with a hard on bumping it into people and knocking drinks over. While this may be a place where naked women jump up and down on your lap, save the sweatpants and the hard ons for the champagne room and I’ll save my hate for you.

…You exit the elevator in all the excitement of other people exiting the elevator, yet you get off on the wrong floor. I know it’s such an exciting moment when everyone gets out and you want to go along with the crowd. Then you get into the lobby and realize, hmm, this isn’t my floor, this isn’t even my company but it is actually my hate.

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