I get into work this morning and the first phone call I get is a guy on the other end explaining to me how he is too busy to do some aspect of his job and how he doesn't feel he has time to do something, so somehow, in a magical world where this man's irrational logic is the predominant deciding factor of the universe, he tells me that it is my job. Really pal? You think I want to go through the endless documents and monotonous rigmarole of your job when I don't even work for you...or have anything to do with you? You’ve got to be shitting me. What kind of response was he hoping I would dawn? "Yes massa, I would love to do that fo' you. You need yo' shoes shined sir? Maybe I could do a little dance, if that would be ta yo’ likin’".
No matter how many times I say people don't surprise me, somehow there is that one guy who just does.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Bellapube
So, my buddy Mike just invented a new word that needs to gain popular culture status with your assistance world.
The Bellapube. It's the drag strip that joins a girls belly button bush to her nether-fur. I don't care who you are or what your values may be, if you have this, just know that not even a lesbian coal mine worker will blow you. It's like a mustache for your FUPA ladies.
Yeah. We said it. Bellapube.
P.S. The pubes that reach your thighs like the U.N. reaching for any foreign nation in need...not sexy.
The Bellapube. It's the drag strip that joins a girls belly button bush to her nether-fur. I don't care who you are or what your values may be, if you have this, just know that not even a lesbian coal mine worker will blow you. It's like a mustache for your FUPA ladies.
Yeah. We said it. Bellapube.
P.S. The pubes that reach your thighs like the U.N. reaching for any foreign nation in need...not sexy.
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