Carbon copied to their superior, if possible.
Natter 56: ...we need the writers.
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
Know what's funny? My hands have started to swell like my feet.
Okay, that wasn't funny. I'm sure something was going to be funny, but I dismember what. Good thing my GP already gave me a rush appointment for this afternoon for the whole morphine thing.
Or you could say, "I noticed a discrepancy in your copy of my email - here is my actual email for you to refer to" or somesuch.
Oh, I like that.
We just had a salesguy walk into the office (which they're not supposed to do, no soliciting), and when my boss said, "We're not interested," he got kind of passive-agressive and said, "Oh, I caught you on a bad day."
Because, you see, my boss is a woman, and should clearly be hearts and sunshine when someone comes into the office to try and sell us some crap.
Because, you see, my boss is a woman, and should clearly be hearts and sunshine when someone comes into the office to try and sell us some crap.
Augh. And my supervisor just played a Matt Lauer interview with Ann Coulter in which she used the term "girl president", and now I want to run around punching people in the crotch.
he got kind of passive-agressive and said, "Oh, I caught you on a bad day."
oh, I would have ripped him a new asshole.
oh, I would have ripped him a new asshole.
She did pretty well. Not Vortex-style, but enough that his last words were "Okay, I'm leaving!" After he tried to convince her that he wasn't selling anything.
ita, that's rather scary & worrisome. I'm hoping they quickly figure out what's going on and it has a non-complicated remedy.
What to do with cilantro?
I understand it makes a good, if smelly, compost.
I want to run around punching people in the crotch.
I want video of shrift doing this.
Also, I forgot the keys to my office. Again. Oops.
It's going to be a Very Long Day.
What to do with cilantro?
Nuke the bastard.
Twenty-five minutes until home time. Time is slowing down. I can only assume it will come to a complete stop at twenty-nine miutes past four.