Cause right now I am carrying this team. Its ok though, if my stress and anger were able to conduct electricity, I could keep New York lit for a week. Klipz has some sort of blog hunger strike going and Trey should actually think about changing his name to Nancy. So I'll let you guys in on what has been happening...
Everyone on my team is freaking out. But not me...nope, not me. Why? Cause I don't give a fuck.
In the legal world, shit has the tendency to hit the fan all at the same time. Lets put it like this: I work on case A, which is always busy. My team works on cases A, B, C, and D. Now case B will be quiet all year because its early in litigation. Case C will be busy on Wed. and Fri. for no apparent reason. Case D will be busy on Tues. and Thur. for no apparent reason. However, suddenly cases A, B, c, and D will all need something done before noon on Wed. We do not hear about this until we get the email asking for it at fucking 10:50 Tues. night. And all of us paralegals check our email after we go home...(that was a joke).
So, everyone needs everything ASAP, but first they need to suck my balls. My case manager (we have thrown around the idea of calling this guy Sick Boy, but I am leaning toward Radioactive Man myself...) freaks out because he is the one who is gonna get shit for not being able to do the impossible. I am so used to this shit that it really doesn't faze me. As long as I am not being yelled at for more than 10 minutes and I get a check when your done, its fine with me.
What else is new...
Oh, I forgot to sign in yesterday and Party Girl sent out a nasty email to everyone who did not sign in that day. Apparently everyone who forgot to/decided not to sign in on October 23rd has a chronic, dare I say habitual, tendency to not sign in each day. I will spare you the quote.
Anything else?
Oh, I am in love with a 16 year old...
delicious bottle of Lagavulin single malt. Mmm, so peaty, so smokey, so good.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
Oh Snitches
So I just got an email sent out to my team (the group of mercenaries I roam the office with doing similar types of mindless tasks) about how my snitches had a few non-billable hours last week.
Holy shit.
Listen up snitches.
You are a snitch, and the only thing worst than a snitch is a fucking temp snitch. If you put down that you just sat there and did nothing for 2 hours one day because I was too busy to assign work for you, then you threaten your own delicate fucking existence. Here is why:
The case manager (he will recieve his own "Kill Me Now" moniker soon enough, there are just way too many possibilities at this point) sees that you don't have any hours billed and he freaks out. He has to approve and give out your time sheet to Party Girl, who is going to freak out because anything that the firm has to pay for is gonna get noticed by the big partner who is in charge of all that shit. That is literally all the big partner cares about. He doesn't want the firm to spend one fucking penny more than it has to for anything. In not billing your hours, you have basically kicked the sleeping giant that is this big partner, and he is not going to say "why don't these snitches have any work to do", he is going to say "eliminate those costs immediately".
You know what that means snitches?
That means you take your fucking informant status out of protective custody and on to the streets. Believe me when I tell you that your temp snitch status is well known, and those gang member temps from the last agency we used are gonna smell you out and eat you for fucking dinner.
The moral of this story is that even if you sit and do nothing for a few hours, say you did something. Bill those hours as having to wait for me or something. Or, since you fucking love work so much that you have to ask me for shit to do every 15 minutes, find something to do. Rearrange the cabinets, put away files, vacuum the floor. I do not give a fuck. Just do something and preferably leave me alone while your doing it.
Holy shit.
Listen up snitches.
You are a snitch, and the only thing worst than a snitch is a fucking temp snitch. If you put down that you just sat there and did nothing for 2 hours one day because I was too busy to assign work for you, then you threaten your own delicate fucking existence. Here is why:
The case manager (he will recieve his own "Kill Me Now" moniker soon enough, there are just way too many possibilities at this point) sees that you don't have any hours billed and he freaks out. He has to approve and give out your time sheet to Party Girl, who is going to freak out because anything that the firm has to pay for is gonna get noticed by the big partner who is in charge of all that shit. That is literally all the big partner cares about. He doesn't want the firm to spend one fucking penny more than it has to for anything. In not billing your hours, you have basically kicked the sleeping giant that is this big partner, and he is not going to say "why don't these snitches have any work to do", he is going to say "eliminate those costs immediately".
You know what that means snitches?
That means you take your fucking informant status out of protective custody and on to the streets. Believe me when I tell you that your temp snitch status is well known, and those gang member temps from the last agency we used are gonna smell you out and eat you for fucking dinner.
The moral of this story is that even if you sit and do nothing for a few hours, say you did something. Bill those hours as having to wait for me or something. Or, since you fucking love work so much that you have to ask me for shit to do every 15 minutes, find something to do. Rearrange the cabinets, put away files, vacuum the floor. I do not give a fuck. Just do something and preferably leave me alone while your doing it.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Welcome Back
I would like to take a minute to ask everyone who reads this blog (all 6, perhaps even 7 of you) to say thanks to Treytew for posting a blog. You may not have known, but Trey has been quite busy watching videos of street fights and fat kids getting owned on youtube. In fact, just the other day I caught him watching movies of kittens. Before he gets all defensive and gives me shit, yea, I watched a few of them with him. Kittens are cute, but going out of your way to watch them on youtube is sorta yag.
By the way Trey, thats a hell of a fucking post. Keep up the good work kid.
By the way Trey, thats a hell of a fucking post. Keep up the good work kid.
More Lavatory Antics
Ok, so yesterday I was the one that had to stay an extra hour(editor's note: This requires explanation. Either Klipz, Myself, or our case manager has to stay an extra hour every day "in case we are needed" according to the attorneys. That is to say we need to fart around this festering rat's nest an extra hour because scanning documents, and sending packages out via FedEx are just a couple of tasks beyond the
dignity of any self-respecting legal scholar. Humility should be somehow structured in to the required coursework for some of these wannabe magistrates. I guess it goes to prove that all the money in the world can't teach some how to act like a genuine person. Anyways, I digress.
What I was trying to say was that it was my day to stay late in the off chance that anything needed to be taken care of. I was going about my usual, reading the entire internet, thinking of errands I needed to attend to, dreaming of a life that didn't so closely resemble Dante's 6th ring of Hell when before I knew it I needed to take a squirt. "No big deal" you're saying, right? My sentiments exactly friends. Yet, you are forgetting about where we are. This is Funder, Cunt, Hymen, and Scrotum. The comfort zone of assbackwardsness. The mascot of this place should be Mr. Tom Foolery, himself. I swear every time I get off the elevator coming to work I step into some parallel dimension where anything, and I mean ANYTHING is possible. This being said in the least positive way imaginable.
So I make my way to the men's room to do the deed and upon entering I found myself shocked by what I stumbled upon. An attorney, who from here on will be known as Lucky Chang, was standing at one of the urinals taking a piss...WITH A TOOTHBRUSH IN HIS FUCKING MOUTH. Now, personally I have never understood the whole brushing-your-teeth-at-work thing. I don't mind if others do it I could just never get into it. But really? While you're pissing? This was too much. Awestruck, I forced myself not to stare at this travesty of personal hygiene. It was like watching a pop culture icon slip into addiction. Disappointing to see, but just to ridiculously hysterical to look away. There stood Lucky, Dick in Hand(no pun intended), tooth brush in mouth with the slightest hint of toothpaste at the corners, slowly rocking to and fro, with this shit-eating "I don't know nuffin, boss" look slapped all over his mug. Now at this point you may be asking yourself, "Is that it? An attorney brushing and pissing at the same time? That's all you've got for us Trey?
Worry not comrades, there's more.
So I sat there pissing, while at the same time trying to completely digest what I had witnessed. Little did I know the coup de grace was still to come. Lucky went about finishing his business and, as is customary, migrated to the sinks to complete the ritual of the #1 with a wash of the hands. However, Lucky apparently is a rogue, thumbing his nose at the clearly established etiquette of the men's office bathroom. What I saw next was something of unprecedented proportions.
At this point in the plot I had finished pissing as well, and had situated myself a safe sink's length away from Lucky out of respect for my own personal bubble. I still could not help myself from gawking at Lucky even if only out of my peripherals, for the simple fact that I was waiting to see what would happen next. And as it turns out folks, not much of anything happened. I don't mean this in the sense that the rest of my time in the lavatory was uneventful or lackluster. I mean it by saying that LUCKY CHAN PROCEEDED TO NOT WAS HIS HANDS DESPITE SITTING IN FRONT OF A SINK FOR 5 FUCKING MINUTES! He stood in front of the mirror happily brushing away, seemingly oblivious to my presence a mere 5 feet from him he and simply did not wash his hands. He continued to brush to his heart's content, shoveling water down his gullet rinsing the pearly whites to no end but failed to wash his hands after pissing.
Let's look at this from the beginning in a time line format:
1. Lucky goes to bathroom, begins to brush and piss at the same time(keep in mind, dick is in hand)
2. Lucky pisses, dick still in hand for control purposes.
3. Lucky proceeds to sink and continues to brush and rinse, using the same hands that held his dick not 20 seconds ago.
4. Lucky exits bathroom having pissed, brushed his teeth, not having washed his hands, all while inadvertently me in an unimaginable state of dumbfoundedness.
Am I insane? What is wrong with these people? Since when is shit like this ok?
Granted, I may fuck up and not flush the urinal from time to time, but this is intolerable. Kids don't wash after pissing. I remember pissing no-handed for that exact reason when I was four. These are attorneys earning hundreds of thousands of dollars per year, many of who have multiple post-graduate degrees other than a JD and they still don't wash they're hands after taking a leak.
Does thinking you are the last sane person on earth make you crazy? God I hope not.
dignity of any self-respecting legal scholar. Humility should be somehow structured in to the required coursework for some of these wannabe magistrates. I guess it goes to prove that all the money in the world can't teach some how to act like a genuine person. Anyways, I digress.
What I was trying to say was that it was my day to stay late in the off chance that anything needed to be taken care of. I was going about my usual, reading the entire internet, thinking of errands I needed to attend to, dreaming of a life that didn't so closely resemble Dante's 6th ring of Hell when before I knew it I needed to take a squirt. "No big deal" you're saying, right? My sentiments exactly friends. Yet, you are forgetting about where we are. This is Funder, Cunt, Hymen, and Scrotum. The comfort zone of assbackwardsness. The mascot of this place should be Mr. Tom Foolery, himself. I swear every time I get off the elevator coming to work I step into some parallel dimension where anything, and I mean ANYTHING is possible. This being said in the least positive way imaginable.
So I make my way to the men's room to do the deed and upon entering I found myself shocked by what I stumbled upon. An attorney, who from here on will be known as Lucky Chang, was standing at one of the urinals taking a piss...WITH A TOOTHBRUSH IN HIS FUCKING MOUTH. Now, personally I have never understood the whole brushing-your-teeth-at-work thing. I don't mind if others do it I could just never get into it. But really? While you're pissing? This was too much. Awestruck, I forced myself not to stare at this travesty of personal hygiene. It was like watching a pop culture icon slip into addiction. Disappointing to see, but just to ridiculously hysterical to look away. There stood Lucky, Dick in Hand(no pun intended), tooth brush in mouth with the slightest hint of toothpaste at the corners, slowly rocking to and fro, with this shit-eating "I don't know nuffin, boss" look slapped all over his mug. Now at this point you may be asking yourself, "Is that it? An attorney brushing and pissing at the same time? That's all you've got for us Trey?
Worry not comrades, there's more.
So I sat there pissing, while at the same time trying to completely digest what I had witnessed. Little did I know the coup de grace was still to come. Lucky went about finishing his business and, as is customary, migrated to the sinks to complete the ritual of the #1 with a wash of the hands. However, Lucky apparently is a rogue, thumbing his nose at the clearly established etiquette of the men's office bathroom. What I saw next was something of unprecedented proportions.
At this point in the plot I had finished pissing as well, and had situated myself a safe sink's length away from Lucky out of respect for my own personal bubble. I still could not help myself from gawking at Lucky even if only out of my peripherals, for the simple fact that I was waiting to see what would happen next. And as it turns out folks, not much of anything happened. I don't mean this in the sense that the rest of my time in the lavatory was uneventful or lackluster. I mean it by saying that LUCKY CHAN PROCEEDED TO NOT WAS HIS HANDS DESPITE SITTING IN FRONT OF A SINK FOR 5 FUCKING MINUTES! He stood in front of the mirror happily brushing away, seemingly oblivious to my presence a mere 5 feet from him he and simply did not wash his hands. He continued to brush to his heart's content, shoveling water down his gullet rinsing the pearly whites to no end but failed to wash his hands after pissing.
Let's look at this from the beginning in a time line format:
1. Lucky goes to bathroom, begins to brush and piss at the same time(keep in mind, dick is in hand)
2. Lucky pisses, dick still in hand for control purposes.
3. Lucky proceeds to sink and continues to brush and rinse, using the same hands that held his dick not 20 seconds ago.
4. Lucky exits bathroom having pissed, brushed his teeth, not having washed his hands, all while inadvertently me in an unimaginable state of dumbfoundedness.
Am I insane? What is wrong with these people? Since when is shit like this ok?
Granted, I may fuck up and not flush the urinal from time to time, but this is intolerable. Kids don't wash after pissing. I remember pissing no-handed for that exact reason when I was four. These are attorneys earning hundreds of thousands of dollars per year, many of who have multiple post-graduate degrees other than a JD and they still don't wash they're hands after taking a leak.
Does thinking you are the last sane person on earth make you crazy? God I hope not.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
The Happiest Kid in Drunkytown
Go-ing to-o NAS-CAR! Go-ing to-o NAS-CAR! Cha-cha cha-cha cha cha!
The whiskyfest charity rare whisky list came out today. I got my eye on you, Laphroaig 30. Maaaaaan, we's gonna get f'ed up on some funky-fancy-ass shit on Oct 30, yo.
The douchebag who shits on us every Friday at work got shit on, himself, this morning. Awesome. Oh how the toilet bowl swirled has turned, hasn't it, K-Ville? Suck it.
I had to run to the dentist cause the train I caught damn near an hour early was a gd half hour late. Then I get to work (almost on time, I might add) and have a ton of shit to do on a case I haven't worked on in over a year. But you know what, not even a temp banging my gf could bring me down right now.
No 'body gonna break-a my striiiiiide....
Lalalalalalala... me so happy. You know what I'm gonna do for the rest of the morning? Print out crosswords for the ride. Ahhh, fuck this joint.
I feel like Pee-Wee Herman when you say the secret word. You know what the word is? Temp. Or whisky. Or NASCAR muhfukkin racin!!! Or whatever you say. I'll be happy.
Freaking out.
Gonna go play ball now.
The whiskyfest charity rare whisky list came out today. I got my eye on you, Laphroaig 30. Maaaaaan, we's gonna get f'ed up on some funky-fancy-ass shit on Oct 30, yo.
The douchebag who shits on us every Friday at work got shit on, himself, this morning. Awesome. Oh how the toilet bowl swirled has turned, hasn't it, K-Ville? Suck it.
I had to run to the dentist cause the train I caught damn near an hour early was a gd half hour late. Then I get to work (almost on time, I might add) and have a ton of shit to do on a case I haven't worked on in over a year. But you know what, not even a temp banging my gf could bring me down right now.
No 'body gonna break-a my striiiiiide....
Lalalalalalala... me so happy. You know what I'm gonna do for the rest of the morning? Print out crosswords for the ride. Ahhh, fuck this joint.
I feel like Pee-Wee Herman when you say the secret word. You know what the word is? Temp. Or whisky. Or NASCAR muhfukkin racin!!! Or whatever you say. I'll be happy.
Freaking out.
Gonna go play ball now.
Can't Stop Won't Stop
Another thing to add to the never-ending math equation that is the list of things that piss me off:
Running in to temps you have used for past projects.
This is very much a case of the good, the bad, and the ugly...
Today I saw the good. I ran in to a temp we had used a while back. For all intents and purposes I will refer to him as Abercrombie & Snitch (not because he was actually a snitch, I just think that all temps are natural born snitches and should be snitch slapped on a daily basis). He knew the deal, I spotted him out of the corner of my eye, he spotted me out the corner of his, and we acted as though we had never met each other, the way God intended it. That is the good.
I have seen the bad. The bad is when you run upon a temp who got a better job than you. It really doesn't get much worse than that.
Then there is the ugly. The ugly is when little snitch temps get axed and go out of their way to run over to you and complain about it. There was one snitch we had here, a real fucking loser, and literally everyone hated him. I am serious, everyone who even looked at this kid didn't even like him. This kid then proceeds to get a job in the immediate area and complain about how we let him go because he was a pissant little snitch motherfucker. Fuck you, you ARE A TEMP, you are literally the scum of the white collar world. The world is a tough fucking place, deal with it.
Running in to temps you have used for past projects.
This is very much a case of the good, the bad, and the ugly...
Today I saw the good. I ran in to a temp we had used a while back. For all intents and purposes I will refer to him as Abercrombie & Snitch (not because he was actually a snitch, I just think that all temps are natural born snitches and should be snitch slapped on a daily basis). He knew the deal, I spotted him out of the corner of my eye, he spotted me out the corner of his, and we acted as though we had never met each other, the way God intended it. That is the good.
I have seen the bad. The bad is when you run upon a temp who got a better job than you. It really doesn't get much worse than that.
Then there is the ugly. The ugly is when little snitch temps get axed and go out of their way to run over to you and complain about it. There was one snitch we had here, a real fucking loser, and literally everyone hated him. I am serious, everyone who even looked at this kid didn't even like him. This kid then proceeds to get a job in the immediate area and complain about how we let him go because he was a pissant little snitch motherfucker. Fuck you, you ARE A TEMP, you are literally the scum of the white collar world. The world is a tough fucking place, deal with it.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Perspective
Got shit on at work today, but nothing can keep me down. NASCAR racin is just a couple days away. Treatment royale in Charlotte can only mean one thing. And when I find out what, I'll tell you. The south is crazy.
The fat chick in the previous post is a specimen. I mean, really special.
Anywho, on the train this morning some guy wearing a green shirt with a tie and a yellow fleece (yeah, he looked like a children's show host) started eating garbage. At least that's what it smelled like. Then he washed it down with koolaid power mixed with gotorade. Serious.
Got to work and get shit on. Same f'ing guy. I fucking hate this guy.
Favorite guy I work with got his fannie pack stolen across the country. Devastation ensued.
I put on a display of boozin on Sunday. Hilarity ensued.
I still want to blow my brains out, but not until next week.
Peas.
The fat chick in the previous post is a specimen. I mean, really special.
Anywho, on the train this morning some guy wearing a green shirt with a tie and a yellow fleece (yeah, he looked like a children's show host) started eating garbage. At least that's what it smelled like. Then he washed it down with koolaid power mixed with gotorade. Serious.
Got to work and get shit on. Same f'ing guy. I fucking hate this guy.
Favorite guy I work with got his fannie pack stolen across the country. Devastation ensued.
I put on a display of boozin on Sunday. Hilarity ensued.
I still want to blow my brains out, but not until next week.
Peas.
Note To Self
Remind me that when I get home tonight, I need to add "Sweaty Aged Fat Party Girls" to the never-ending list of things I hate and make me want to die.
So I had to come in at 8am today, and I am taking the elevator up after getting my coffee. On cue, the elevator opens up so the scum from the firm below us can take a fucking elevator ride up 1 floor (a separate and inevitable blog in itself). So this fat, sweaty, 40 year old (she looked 40) lady gets in, literally panting (I shit you not, she was about to have a heart attack) and hits the dreaded up-one-floor button. Not only was she as I aforementioned described, but she was listening to the stupid "don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me song", which was blasting out of her shitty ipod headphones.
I immediately wretched and threw up in my mouth.
Another awesome fucking start to another awesome fucking day.
So I had to come in at 8am today, and I am taking the elevator up after getting my coffee. On cue, the elevator opens up so the scum from the firm below us can take a fucking elevator ride up 1 floor (a separate and inevitable blog in itself). So this fat, sweaty, 40 year old (she looked 40) lady gets in, literally panting (I shit you not, she was about to have a heart attack) and hits the dreaded up-one-floor button. Not only was she as I aforementioned described, but she was listening to the stupid "don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me song", which was blasting out of her shitty ipod headphones.
I immediately wretched and threw up in my mouth.
Another awesome fucking start to another awesome fucking day.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
A Few Things to Address
First off, I would like to refer to Klipz's post about me not flushing. I will admit, i do forget to flush the urinal from time to time. Why?, you may ask. Because FUCK THIS PLACE!! That's why. My soul has been systematically yanked out of my ass over the last fifteen months so I'll treat the toilets as I please. You want to know what else I might do? I just might take a steaming hot dump on the desk of every fucking attorney I feel has ever wronged me. And believe me, that would require many a brown trout on my part.
Another thing that has been getting to me more and more is the fucking attorneys asking us to stay late at the most inconvenient times. Don't get me wrong, I do like to do my share of Overtime. It helps pay the bills, alleviates financial stress, and of course, allows me to subsidize my ever-growing alcohol addiction. However, for the last month Klipz and I have been sitting on our asses all fucking week, then, with no warning, our attorneys proceed to give us 4 hours worth of deposition prep at 4:30 ON A FUCKING FRIDAY. It's getting to the point where I feel like I'm going to go into one of those uncontrollable rages where I black out and the next thing I know I am sitting on the floor of the 13th floor conference room in a pool of blood with a dead, disemboweled first-year associate next to me, and upon further inspection, I will have eaten said first-year's entire intestinal tract along with part of his/her liver. I'm really not trying to come off like a freak, I'm just trying to give you broke-ass suckas fair warning for when you ask me to take a CD from your office down two floors and I respond by removing your kidneys with a utility knife. And maybe eating part of you.
Another thing that has been getting to me more and more is the fucking attorneys asking us to stay late at the most inconvenient times. Don't get me wrong, I do like to do my share of Overtime. It helps pay the bills, alleviates financial stress, and of course, allows me to subsidize my ever-growing alcohol addiction. However, for the last month Klipz and I have been sitting on our asses all fucking week, then, with no warning, our attorneys proceed to give us 4 hours worth of deposition prep at 4:30 ON A FUCKING FRIDAY. It's getting to the point where I feel like I'm going to go into one of those uncontrollable rages where I black out and the next thing I know I am sitting on the floor of the 13th floor conference room in a pool of blood with a dead, disemboweled first-year associate next to me, and upon further inspection, I will have eaten said first-year's entire intestinal tract along with part of his/her liver. I'm really not trying to come off like a freak, I'm just trying to give you broke-ass suckas fair warning for when you ask me to take a CD from your office down two floors and I respond by removing your kidneys with a utility knife. And maybe eating part of you.
Let Me Count The Ways
I really fucking hate my job. Every day I think of about a million things I would rather be doing that sitting here answering these stupid fucking questions and doing what I basically do. Since I probably only have a few minutes before I get the next email from someone I have never heard of before asking me some stupid fucking question or telling me that they can't adhere to a fucking deadline that I didn't even fucking know about, I will spare you all the list of things I would rather be doing. However please rest assured they include drinking and various other ways of grevious bodily harm.
Fuck am I one miserable piece of shit. (a statement not a question)
And to all of those who say, well if you don't like it then leave...Fuck you, it took me xx amount of months to get this job in the first place, and number one can't buy no scotch if number one don't got no paper.
Fuck am I one miserable piece of shit. (a statement not a question)
And to all of those who say, well if you don't like it then leave...Fuck you, it took me xx amount of months to get this job in the first place, and number one can't buy no scotch if number one don't got no paper.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Busted!
Treytew used the facilities, and did not flush the urinal. I saw it with mine own eyes. O ye gods, have mercy on his poor, pitiless, Rhode-Island-ass soul.
Bathroom Etiquette
An open letter to all at the firm, or at least those on the 13th floor (not my floor, but in an attempt to remain completely anonymous we will say that Klipz, Trey, and myself all work on this floor).
Rules of the Bathroom
1) No "owning the urinal"
By owning the urinal, I do not mean taking up more space than is necessary, that was remedied by the partition that is between each urinal (however I am sure that some dickhead would take up more space than he should). No, I mean, when you take a piss, do not act like you are fucking Christopher Columbus setting foot on the beaches of the New World for the first time. Likewise, the urinal is not some hooker that you just punched as did a line of coke off of. Do not treat it like such. I do not care what level of importance you hold at this place, when your dick is in your hand, we are all the same.
2) No talking
If you must say hello, fine. However please do not continue talking when you have started your business. I am busy concentrating on not getting any splash back on my khakis. The second you start talking to me, things have the potential to go wrong and I make it a daily habit to walk around with as little piss on myself as possible. Don't mess up a good thing.
3) ABSOLUTELY NO LOOKING AROUND
Holy fucking Jesus Christ. If you must talk, fine. Have it your way. But do so as you stare at the wall like God intended you to. There happens to be one partner at the firm who likes to stare at you while you are taking a piss. This makes me very uncomfortable and I hope it would make you uneasy too.
4) Use two hands
Just like driving a car. I understand that, after however many years of practice, you can use one hand. Cool, alright, good for you, but leave that shit at home. This is not Shea Stadium or the Vince Lombardi Service Area.
5) Don't be that guy...
Being that guy includes...
a) Using the middle of three urinals for no reason.
b) Using the middle of three urinals when the two outside urinals are in use (use a stall).
Being that guy includes alot more, but for now, we'll leave it at that.
6) Leave the belt alone
There is no reason for you to unbuckle your belt to take a piss. I don't care who you are. I have been pissing for 25 years and not once have I ever fucked up my shirt-tuck-in while unzipping my shit and taking a piss. You are basically just being a weird guy who untucked his shirt to take a piss, don't be that guy.
7) Try not to fall asleep on the pot
Strike that. That guy ruled. I took us about a year to figure out who that guy who was falling asleep in the stall was. Besides finding out who the random hot/cute people walking around are, that was probably the most fun thing I have done at this place.
Rules of the Bathroom
1) No "owning the urinal"
By owning the urinal, I do not mean taking up more space than is necessary, that was remedied by the partition that is between each urinal (however I am sure that some dickhead would take up more space than he should). No, I mean, when you take a piss, do not act like you are fucking Christopher Columbus setting foot on the beaches of the New World for the first time. Likewise, the urinal is not some hooker that you just punched as did a line of coke off of. Do not treat it like such. I do not care what level of importance you hold at this place, when your dick is in your hand, we are all the same.
2) No talking
If you must say hello, fine. However please do not continue talking when you have started your business. I am busy concentrating on not getting any splash back on my khakis. The second you start talking to me, things have the potential to go wrong and I make it a daily habit to walk around with as little piss on myself as possible. Don't mess up a good thing.
3) ABSOLUTELY NO LOOKING AROUND
Holy fucking Jesus Christ. If you must talk, fine. Have it your way. But do so as you stare at the wall like God intended you to. There happens to be one partner at the firm who likes to stare at you while you are taking a piss. This makes me very uncomfortable and I hope it would make you uneasy too.
4) Use two hands
Just like driving a car. I understand that, after however many years of practice, you can use one hand. Cool, alright, good for you, but leave that shit at home. This is not Shea Stadium or the Vince Lombardi Service Area.
5) Don't be that guy...
Being that guy includes...
a) Using the middle of three urinals for no reason.
b) Using the middle of three urinals when the two outside urinals are in use (use a stall).
Being that guy includes alot more, but for now, we'll leave it at that.
6) Leave the belt alone
There is no reason for you to unbuckle your belt to take a piss. I don't care who you are. I have been pissing for 25 years and not once have I ever fucked up my shirt-tuck-in while unzipping my shit and taking a piss. You are basically just being a weird guy who untucked his shirt to take a piss, don't be that guy.
7) Try not to fall asleep on the pot
Strike that. That guy ruled. I took us about a year to figure out who that guy who was falling asleep in the stall was. Besides finding out who the random hot/cute people walking around are, that was probably the most fun thing I have done at this place.
Things that blow
Going to the dentist. A vacuum cleaner being operated in reverse time. Everyone in the elevator at the same time as me. Everyone driving on the same road at the same time as me. Wind. Bombs. Beastie Boys lyrics. Porn stars. Making copies. Making less than $50G a year. The Eagles' offensive line. Seriously. Summer associates. First years. Associates. Pahtnus. Sendin ish to dead storage. Getting shit for not posting to a blog that 2 people read when I talk to these 2 people twice a week. Most gay dudes. Plastic p.o.s. staplers. People that own the sidewalk. Six hundred f'ing gift-giving holidays a year. Us not being in Charlotte, livin' the life man... NASCAR style. Party Girls that don't party. Cokeheads that DO party. The Giants' defensive secondary (lest we forget). Guns, for my brains out. Kids on the train. Most of the people in the office. Having no drive. Not drinking right now. Cheeks and lips that work together. Hair dryers. Trumpet players. Being a douche in front of your gf, knowing that half the time she is a douche to you, and not being able to recall one muhfukin' incident of it. Being home sick at 11am and realizing being at your shit-ass job would be better. Muhfukin' punk-ass, no good, know-it-all, QVC shoppin', broke-ass, no-insurance-havin', pussy-foot, I'm too good to move boxes, bastard, no-deoderant-wearin', foreign, system fuckin' up, gold toof havin', homeless, muhfukin' TEMPS. Calling the court reporter service. Bringing a CD from one moron's office to another's. System changeovers.
I'm hungry.
I'm hungry.
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