Dear SHS...
I absolutely loathe spending my days in a relentless struggle to demonstrate that I give a crap about my job. My only vested interest is that they continue sending me a bag of money each month - without which I have no idea how I would sustain the many financial obligations of my life. I have unwittingly secured a firmly-anchored spot for myself in the middle class of this nonsensical society and now find - to my deep frustration - that I have almost no way out absent totally screwing over my children's shot at a decent future.
What the fuck do I do here?
Wasting Away Again In Corporateville
Dear Wasting;
The obvious answer here is to sell your children. There are several viable options on the market currently, including Sesame Street, the circus, and my mother, who, much to her dismay, cannot will grandchildren to spring from my loins. This will take care of you financially as well as rid you of the burden of having to provide a future for anyone but your lazy ass self.
If you are a bitchass and INSIST on keeping your offspring, there are several other options, for several different scenarios.
1. You hate your job because the job sucks.
a. Stick a tampon soaked in vodka in your butt. Change every 4-8 hours.
2.You hate your job because your boss sucks.
a. Stick TWO tampons soaked in vodka in your butt.
3. You hate your job because your coworkers suck.
a. This is my forte yo. I LOVE irritating annoying people, especially if they are in a confined space with me for any period of time. Aside from the usual farting around them and gluing their pens to their desks, there are a few other tricks to help ensure that your coworkers stay the fuck away from your first world problem-plagued ass. First weird thing to do around them is sigh heavily with every breath, but make every 3rd or 4th sigh an inquisitive one. Huhmmm. Huhmmm. Huhmmm? Huhmmm. This weirds bitches out consistently.
Second, get a bag of those sunchips with the ultra-crinkly recycled packaging. Keep your hand in the bag at all times, and if someone says shit to you scream at them about your hypoglycemia making you irritable if not kept under control. Weep audibly as they walk away.
Take a telephone call at your desk regarding your recent conjunctivitis infection. Talk about being contagious for another 48 hours. Walk to your least-liked coworker's desk. Touch EVERYTHING.
Now, because I know you personally, and have seen you without a shirt on, I have some suggestions for sole-proprietor shirtless enterprises that you could engage in.
A. Carving ice-sculptures with your razor-sharp hip bones.
B. A fake boyfriend service where you climb shirtless into (my) bed with the client, wait for them to wake up, then say, "good morning beautiful." You can charge extra to lovingly watch her/him get ready for work.
C. Shirtless landscaping.
D. Shirtless chef service
E. Shirtless dry cleaning
F. Shirtless dog grooming
Evidence:
Note the obligatory paint-program blacked out eyeballs.
You're welcome.
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