When a portly mouth breather with an inferiority complex chooses to go toe to toe with an adversary he better not bring a sticker of butter for brain food.
At work today I was faced with the sad realization that the Lieutenant Dan to my Forrest Gump will never return, I was also left to deal with the aftermath.
Porky Pig and his diabetes bag were on a rampage pissing in every corner of our office, basically marking his territory. While lifting a phone receiver gives him heart palpitations, he believes he can solve problems with a single heroic whine...or should I say: SQUEEL!
Today I was trying to hold it together and not implode from the fuckwads I'm forced to work with but in waddles thigh-friction, anal leakage himself and starts in with the standard operating procedures for post-its. The fuck? Yes. I guess I was not aware every note must have his hoof of approval before seeing the flourecent lights of his pigdom.
This man has lost his damn mind. And if that was not proof enough, he quoted comments from my own Facebook and finished his swan dance by grabbing his crotch before calling ME unprofessional!
Bacon grease and the left over fat from liposuctions he digs out from back alley clinics a margarita do not make.
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Update: Portly Pig says he slapped hsi stomach and not grabbed his crotch...which makes things soooo much better. Thanks for the clear up there. Don't forget to bake extra cookies for the guys at Over Eaters Anonymous for the sweet tip. Ya fucken moron.
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