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Archives: Sep 2013

Choose Your Own Adventure: Crappy Workplace

Warning!!! Do not read this book straight through from beginning to end! These pages contain many different adventures you can go on in a miserable workplace filled with people who wish they were somewhere else and couldn’t give two shits about doing their job correctly. From time to time as you read along, you will be asked to make a choice. Your choice may lead to success or disaster!

 
Page 1
Welcome to your new job! Like most Americans, you will spend all day stapling pieces of paper that you don’t care about or understand. The American dream is at your fingertips! Money! Moderately attractive co-workers! As many free office supplies as you can cram into your pants!

It’s fifteen minutes into your first day of work, and the initial shock of getting paid like a real human being has worn off. You’re faced with the cold reality that this job totally blows. Since you’re already tired of stapling things and bored as all hell, maybe this would be a good time to check your Facebook page and see if anyone liked that boring photo you took of your dinner last night?

→ If you decide to check Facebook, turn to page 43
→ If you decide to keep working, turn to page 27

I’m sick, and definitely not playing Grand Theft Auto V

Dear employer,

I’m writing to inform you that I will be gravely ill from Tuesday to Friday this week. While I can’t say what my exact medical condition will be is, I can assure you that whatever I think up it is, it will have nothing whatsoever to do with the release of Grand Theft Auto V on Tuesday.

I don’t even know what Grand Theft Auto V is, let alone where to pick up my a preorder for the game. I certainly haven’t seen the endless commercials and billboards tantalizing and torturing me all month with reminders of this giant open world playground full of innocent pedestrians to run over, hookers to bang and then stab to death with a machete, and a patented Weapon Wheel that allows instant swapping between an assault rifle with armor piercing bullets and a rocket launcher that I can use to blow up a police car and myself when the fuzz has me surrounded with no way out.

Hypothetically speaking, of course.

Tips for students, in hopes they will suck less than me

Every fall brings two things: a new school year and a column where I provide tips for students. Most students consider anyone older than 25 to be elderly and useless, but I’ve found they’ll still read this if I make lots of dick jokes. So here’s my annual collection of unhelpful dick jokes disguised as legitimate advice:

Never sleep with a gossipy person unless you’re really, really good at sex.

College social rules are the same as prison rules. The first day of classes, pick the most intimidating student and make them your bitch. Sneak up behind them and wrestle them to the ground until they declare you the King of Schoolz. People will talk, and followers will be earned.

Want to know the best place to buy booze when you’re underage? There’s a liquor store right next to . . . oh. My editor was reading that over my shoulder. Wait a few minutes for him to go back into his office and pass out again, and then I’ll tell you.

Shorts are for dinks

It’s nearly 100 degrees outside, and I’m wearing jeans. They’re clinging tightly to my legs as if I’d just gone swimming in them. Some people I’ve met today believe I did go swimming in them. To save face, I’ve started pretending I did.

To answer all the usual questions: Yes, I’m unbearably warm. Yes, I’m aware shorts exist. Yes, I’m aware shorts are not as hot as jeans. Yes, I own shorts. Yes, I knew it was going to be warm today. Yes, I chose to wear jeans anyway. No, I’m not an idiot – doctors have run tests. I just hate shorts.

As annoying as these questions are, it still beats the questions I get from neighborhood children when I wear shorts: No, this is not my first time outdoors. Yes, those are real legs and not prosthetics. No, I don’t have a weird Michael Jackson skin disease that makes me look like a ghost. Yes, calling me “Casper” is quite clever, but you’re seven years old so how the hell do you even know about that cartoon?

Well, to hell with all of you bastards in society telling me what to wear. I hate shorts. I hate them in the same way some people hate UGG boots or Crocs. Shorts are creepy and weird. “Hey world, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’ve made it far easier for you to view my leg hair. You’re welcome. My leg hair may awkwardly brush up against you at some point. Just ignore the urge to scream. It will pass.”