Or Could It Be...

Disclaimer: Fuck You AIG*****End of disclaimer

Have you been drinking? *blank stare, and completely thinking to myself that this is the most illiterate heffa I've unfortunately spoken to* No umm, my speech is slurred, and my walk is a little wobbly because I recently suffered a STROKE!!! Of course I'm drunk bitch, and yes I'm managing folks money all at the same time. Fucking chatty, talky, Jovan musk wearing ditz. As as you should have figured out by now, yours truly is sashaying the topic of the week *flippin off the misses, knowing good damn well she could have did this shit, like I ain't got nothing else to do, I don't but that ain't the point* And by now you should have also guessed the topic.

Lame ass, unproductive, excuse me while I muster up the corniest shoe salesman joke ever, halitosis mouth full of funk having, suicidal(yes, here at the bank of hell we have them), I wish she/he would just shut the fuck up, CO-WORKERS. Or maybe its just me.

I work with some of the dizziest ass clowns ever. No, I'm not being sarcastic. Lets see, last week my associate(probably the least fucked up person besides myself), well my associates wife decides to confront him about an affair he's having with Skeletor(the blonde head/headgiver of the parking lot, this bitch has no upper lip nor anything to resemble immaculate head game, why these ducks flock to her like chicken grease to a heart is thought provoking to me). Long story short, she's facing domestic abuse charges. The hilarity. Another one in particular, my favorite, and the heffa who's my motivation behind all of this is bout the most annoying no social skills having tramp to ever walk the face of this earth. I swear I would take 15 bad ass kids any day over her. You know it wouldn't be so bad if they would just get the damn lock fixed on my office door like I demanded six fucking months ago. I could just lock myself in a room of peace and visit the far far far away land of no bullshit, but since I can't, I have to deal with professional idiots. Also, being that my office just so happens to be strategically centered right in front of Tooties, I am often blessed with the loud yelping of my name from across the hall, waking me from my eyes open nap for a gatt damn pen, invoice, file, lube. Shit it doesn't matter with Tootsie. I'm fine with that, the bitch needed a pen. What irks my nerve is the constant need to tell me life stories, like I have confessional/google written on my forehead...Theres not a day that passes that I don't wish to have some kind of super powers to rid my being from the disdain of the presence of this hoe. If only, if only. And I know I'm not the only one suffering from this type of entertainment, maybe one day those aliens they keep spotting in CO will just do us all a favor and take their people back with them. I'm tired of dealing with them, and just in case you haven't today, go out and SLAP THE FUCK OUT OF SOMEONE. Trust me, its sooo gratifying.

The Updated Version: Well because I have INSOMNIA like I don't have to go to work in exactly 2 mothafucking hours, why don't we jam out a bit. *singing* "Cook Me Up A Movie Star Breakfast, More My Dear, More My Dear. They've Got To Have Them In Texas, Cause Everyones A Millionaire." The Misses has me hooked on this damn song, and the tantalizing lyrics doesn't help at all as well, Ladies & Gents Supertramp "Breakfast In America".