After releasing a forecast which portends Q2 success somewhere akin to post Civil War Reconstruction and Crystal Pepsi, various bosses of bosses have taken to heaving sharp lead projectiles into the chalk hull of our career ship with gauged precision. Project cancellations and an exodus of technical expertise has our once heralded sales funnel now vomiting rum-scented future profits into an Applebee's dumpster. We're going through our Rolodex of market contacts, like hot bullets do Carl Landry, with a complete disregard for self respect, honor or health.
If worklife hasn't pushed a stroke out of us, getting chokeslammed by the bucket of cunts at our condo association could. We're Britpopface, Kate Nash, this week and there are fucking cracks in our foundation. It appears as though Hell isn't willing to wait, as judging by the rift in our Pergo floor it appears to be coming for us. Scheduling remediation and assigning ownership of liability to date has proven to be just easier than teaching kittens a Slavic dialect.
As bad as it is, we know someone who feels the same:
4 comments:
One of your funniest posts to date
One of your funniest posts to date
I'm now stealing "bucket of cunts".
Economy affecting work blows. We've had to do some fancy footwork because of that as well. And my man currently works in someones attic because of it. The fuck?
Betty White is more awesomer than words can say.
Awesome post. I liked porno precip.
Keep it up.
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