Dumbass Directors

I fucking hate people that think you live and die by them. If they need something, they automatically assume that you’d love to do it. And not just that, you’d love to do it right this fucking second!

Why do people think this? Is it because their parents loved them that much? It is a desperate call for attention that their subconscious is directing them to do? Do they simply need catering/pandering all day every day? Who knows? All I know is that these people are fucking annoying and should be condemned to death by a thousand bee stings.

Is it really necessary that I Xerox these 3 pages for you right now? Especially since I’m literally right next to the copy room and in the time it took you to ask this of me, you could have made 10 copies? Why do you insist on wasting my time? Is that a required aspect of your job?

DUTIES - As Director of [Any Fucking Department], you will develop, plan, implement, interpret and direct programs in accordance with necessary policies, guidelines and legal constraints, and to advise/assist management in the administration of these programs/policies. Proper levels of annoyance are a must, especially in roping new hires into boring, mind-numbing work. This includes, but is not limited to: having said employee call thousands of people for no good reason, copying documents that would take you 2 seconds to do yourself, and explain basic computer processes in idiotically simple language. In this position you will work closely with all levels of the organization providing the necessary balance between company and employee advocate.

In case you’re wondering, it is I that suffers under such rule. Just now, I’ve been asked to copy a 3 page document. My desk is literally 10 feet away from the copy machine. Yet one of the directors has stopped here, waited for me to get off the phone, and then proceeded to walk me through the process of copying 3 pages. In all this time, she could have made the copies herself and gotten back to her own damned desk.

Yesterday, she had me take dictation on a three paragraph letter. While this doesn’t sound so bad, she was perhaps the slowest dictator in the history of dictation. For the most part, people have a general idea of what to say when giving dictation. This was not the case. A mere 500 words stretched out into two hours of work. Two hours! A five year old can think of shit faster than that. And afterwards, she had the nerve to ask me to speed up the current project I’m working on. I’d be done a lot faster if you would stop asking me to do shit that barely takes up your own time. Maybe if you cleaned off your desk, you could find your own damned keyboard and type your own fucking letter once in a while.

Do I sound bitter? I hope so, since that’s what I’m trying to convey here.

Introducing the Magic Hate Ball

Dear Magic Hate Ball,

I’ve recently become fascinated with Asian culture and I want to get a tattoo with Asian letters, most likely Chinese or Japanese. I want to honor my girlfriend and get a tattoo of her initials (H.A.G. fyi). The thing is: she doesn’t want to do the same for me no matter how much I insist. I mean, it’s only fair, right?

I Do Idolize Overwhelming Tats

Dear IDIOT,

There are a number of problems with your letter. I’ll make this easier for everyone and just make a list:

1. I’m “guessing” that you’re not Asian, and you probably know, at most, one person of Asian descent, who must deal with your constant greetings of “Nihao!” every damned time they see you. In general, it just makes us uncomfortable, especially if we're not Chinese.
2. Here’s the dirty little secret: Asia is not a country, it’s a continent, dumbass. And if you do realize this, China and Japan aren’t the only ones there. Look at a fucking map for once.
3. There are no Chinese or Japanese “letters.” I’m guessing you want to have very complex, very “Asian” looking characters tattooed on your idiotic skin. Why don’t you find out what something constitutes before you have it permanently embedded into your skin?
4. Just because you want to make a bad decision, doesn’t mean your [soon-to-be-ex-]girlfriend should have to make the same one. Especially after the fact when you find out from the Chinese delivery guy that while your tat is an everlasting homage, it is not your girlfriend, but fried bull testicles.

Part of me wants to recommend against getting this tattoo, as it will be an extraordinary exercise in ignorance and bad decision making. In addition to this, it creates a horrible domino effect in which other ignorant assholes will be impressed by the physical manifestation of your idiocy and acquire their own horrible tattoos. However, the larger part of me (I'd guess around 98%) recommends that you do make the investment and hopes that the result takes up a large portion of your body, thus making it impossible to hide your stupidity from the rest of the world.
In conclusion, I suggest you get the tattoo, then continue to persuade your girlfriend to do the same. Soon, she’ll dump you, and you’ll just be that dumbass with “Fried Bull Testicles” or something equally idiotic on his torso with no girlfriend. Good Luck!

The Magic Hate Ball

Orange is Not the New Tan

When did this become attractive? That shit is gross! Last I checked, orange was not a naturally occurring skin color. I know that people want to be eye-catching to a certain extent, but this is not the way to go about it. Car accidents are also eye-catching, but those are never good things. And like car accidents, it’s hard to tear my eyes away from the horrifying scene.

Clearly, the sun is not responsible for this “tan.” It’s not even right to call it a tan, so I’ll start again.

Clearly, the sun is not responsible for this “orange.” Really, only fruit should be anywhere close to this shade. It amuses me because some unknown spector of the universe has enacted some sort of revenge on her. Since she’s too good for a natural looking tan gained from appropriate amounts of exposure to the sun, she is now the actual color of the sun:

CRAZY LADY: I don’t have time to get a real tan, I want a more concentrated form of skin cancer. Bring on the tanning bed!
SUN: Don’t have time for ME!? We’ll see where that gets you:

CRAZY LADY: At least I’m not pasty anymore.

Remember, there are really only five basic colors of people: black, white, red, yellow, brown. No where is orange on that list. Stop defying nature. It’s not cute.