Dear Hot Girl,
Thank you for being hot. You are such a welcome breath of fresh air in this stagnant dungeon of sad, middle aged boomers. They yell at me and are ugly. But you are hot and ignore me, which is infinitely better.
(Oh yeah, there’s like four hot girls who I work with, so I guess this letter applies to them all, plus the lone MILF in the office)
Stop scratching your butt when you walk by my desk. It triggers farts and I don’t like that. I don’t care if you are hot. No farting.
I fear for you. You probably know Tony, the guy who sits behind me. I don’t think he’s very stable. He is always muttering about “assholes” and “carbine”. I just want you to know that when he snaps (and he will), and goes on a murder rampage, stalking the halls and firing round after round of .347 hollow points at co-workers and bosses until he taken out by a hail of gunfire in a firefight between him and 75 federal marshals, well, I’ll probably be the first one killed since I’m like 4 feet away from him. BUT! If I do miraculously survive the first onslaught and manage to be by your side, I’m not going to protect you. Fuck. You better get out of my way. I’m not going to die just because your stupid ass decided to wear heels today.
We know nothing about each other, and that’s a shame. We should talk and get acquainted. Some of my passions are driving F1 racecars, winning various strong-man competitions, and lying. What’re yours?!
You’re always working so hard, running around getting files and doing whatever it is that you do. I feel bad for you. You should visit me! I’m never busy. Just sitting here, thinking…blogging. I bet I get paid more than you.
Oh and I’m looking for the cover image to a journal entry with stock number 41009. It’s not in the G-drive under PUBS/WRD/MKT/Graphics/Book Cover Copies/410/JPG and that shit needs to be in the system by tomorrow. So…can you just find it and submit it for me? Ktnx.
Luv ya always!
-Mark Reiss
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