penismightier.com

Okay, so I got pretty drunk last night. No one’s fault but my own, I’ll own up to that. The question is, what am I doing at work? Believe it or not, when I wander in a half hour late looking all bleary-eyed and deranged, they actually expect me to sit down and work my normal shift. No “oh you look awful, why don’t you head home” for me, oh no. Just, “Wow, what happened to you? Hung over? Great, get to work.” Why is this? Who does this help? Not me and certainly not them. Why would they even want me to be here when they know and I know that I’m not doing a damn thing before noon, other than picking through the break room goodies stash, selectively eating all the granola bars with chocolate chips? And don’t try to be all “Those granola bars are there for everyone in the department,” because everyone else in the department doesn’t have a gallon of half-digested beer floating around in their stomach. What everyone else in the department has is a quiet home life with the wife and kids, which is why they don’t go out Schlitzing on weeknights, which is why they don’t come into work hung over, which is why they’re just gonna have to settle for the crappy no-chocolate-chip granola bars.

As an alternative, if you work in the office with me, please satisfy your sugar-binge needs with a Coke and some Red Vines. For whatever reason, I think we have a special employee whose job it is to make hourly Costco runs to ensure we never run low on Red Vines. I don’t think our Red Vines reserve has ever gotten below about two million vines. Which is awesome, except that Red Vines taste like licorice diluted with cardboard. Additionally, the soda machine costs a dime, which is also a great deal unless you don’t drink soda, like me. So why not head down to the break room and buy a ten-cent soda, and then pack your mouth with a couple hundred Red Vines, and see if it makes you all warm and fuzzy enough to consider keeping your fucking hands off my chewy granola bars with the chocolate chips, k? Thanks so much! Go Team!