Rant Mode : ON

Well guess what! I’m in FULL BITCH MODE TODAY.

 

No thanks to that cow in the office who stole a sachet of my hot chocolate. I don’t mind if fellow colleagues [WHO WORK IN MY OFFICE NOT THE ONE NEXT DOOR] take a sachet or 2. But this obese rotund pathetic excuse of a human being just sauntered into OUR pantry and not only ATE our chippies and peanuts, she had the audacity to take a sachet of MY CADBURY HOT CHOCOLATE and made herself a cuppa! 

 

It’s kinda like someone you don’t know from another neighbourhood barging into your kitchen and making themselves at home. WITH THE FOOD YOU PAID FOR. 

 

Stupid fat thief, I hope she gets diabetes in a cup. 

 

Fine fine okay I don’t mind if she drank it, on the basis that we work next to each other, in the spirit of company love, BUT FOR FUCK’S SAKE, have the decency to ask! It’s not your fucking right to eat whatever is in our office, furthermore you’re horrendously OBESE – please go on a diet and lose weight before you croak in our office with your face stuffed in OUR food. 

 

Next up is how the company I work in practices the ancient art of worshipping  the tribal ‘God’. If you’re not sure what it is, let me explain to you : 

Imagine hundreds of years ago, you’re a little villager who plants fruits for a living [and also as part of the survival mechanisms of your society]. One day, behold! it is a day  to herald the chief’s birthday! Now, as a good little villager you WOULD rightfully bring some of your lovely produce as an offering to the tribal chief, right? Lest you incur the ire of the chief which would lead to your banishment -> no sex -> wanker for life -> die a sad lonely death with your palm and 4 fingers wrapped around your shrivelled fungus-grown member. 

 

Now let’s fast forward to modern day times. Instead of being a little villager, you’re an employee. The ‘tribal Chief’s’ birthday rolls round the corner. 

Let me digress here for a moment. Usually, my opinion is, if it’s someone’s birthday in the company, unless you’re reaaaaaallly close to them / reaaaaally want that promotion, you would suck their dick get them a nice birthday suit present. If not, fuck you, you’d think I’d waste my hard earned money on a present for you? Fuck off! I’d rather spend the RM20 on myself, getting food or buying 5 nectarines [yes, I can buy FIVE nectarines at that price. Ridiculous, isn’t it?!]

 

The MD’s birthday rolled around last month, and SOMEONE had the brilliant  expensive idea of buying the MD an iPod touch. Yes, that expensive thing that costs about half of what I earn a month. 

 

Well FUCK YOU if you think I’d contribute even RM20 for the MD’s present! I don’t know him, he certainly doesn’t know me [if you’re reading this, please identify my favourite Bikram Yoga posture]. So I don’t get WHY we ALL [the poor underpaid and overworked  employees] have to get him a present [using our hard earned money], as we don’t even *know* him?

By *knowing* someone I don’t mean just knowing their names. It’s knowing what they like, dislike, their fears, their loathes, their love, their hate, their … EVERYTHING.

 

Hence, I don’t get WHY we should spend money [recession!] to get someone something! Now I can be equally petty and go “ah fuck you, you didn’t get anything for my birthday!” but to be fair, he doesn’t *know* me. 

 

Ah well, I’m done. All that vitriol and hate was taking up space in my body.

 

M*

 

p/s : Whoever can answer that question gets a cookie. Why? Because EVERYONE loves cookies.

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Posted on December 15, 2008, in Fun fun, Malaysiana, Work, Yuck. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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