Originally Posted: 2005-06-10 11:10am
Ode to the intern I am forced to share an office with
Since our office was renovated, one of our interns was moved into my office because the public room she once sat in, out on display, is being used for other things. Thank you, I’m ever so happy!!!
You are so ghetto, but thankfully, 50% less ghetto than what I’m used to. I appreciate the effort!
You wear very inappropriate clothing to work…. everyday. Your shirts are usually so tight that your pancake-sized nipples protrude all day. This is unless you are wearing one of your ever so stylish ponchos. Your ponchos remind me of my grandmother. That’s a very bad image….my grandmother with your pancake-sized nipples. In the words of Napoleon Dynamite, “GROSS”.
Stop shopping in the juniors department! You are an adult. You are not shaped like a shapeless white teenager, so why do you try and squeeze your large behind into pants that obviously appeal to those lacking a large jungle bootie. I didn’t appreciate walking into MY office and seeing your anus because your low-rider pants were almost around your ankles as you bent over to pick up your pen, which you were only chewing on, not actually using for anything productive (Like the first of many rough drafts of a two week notice letter)….. And your pants were so tight, you must have figured they had built in underwear because it was obvious to me and several others, that you had on no panties….no less a thong at least. I am so traumatized by the very existence of your anus now. Also, if you have not noticed yet, it is summer and very humid. Going commando will not be tolerated in the office, especially when you’re in such close quarters with someone (me) who has an ultra sensitive sense of smell.
Every time you use the word “mine”, you make it plural. “Mine” is a first person
singular possessive pronoun. Do you make this plural because there is more than one of you? Dummy, who issued you your GED. No, I do not plan on “gettin mines lunch.”
You claim you cannot see anything without your glasses. 90% of the time, you are not wearing your glasses. Coincidence? No, I think you just don’t do any work. Actually, I know you do not do any work. I’m doing your work that was so kindly reassigned to me after you fucked it up. Now you have more time to listen to The Tom Joyner Morning Show and talk on the phone to your “Boo”.
You always come in, spend 30 min organizing all of the material possessions you haul around in the 2 large fake Louis Vitton bags you always carry, turn on the radio, call your mother to talk about absolutely nothing, take off your shoes and complain about how your feet hurt. One day I asked you, “Maybe your heels are too high. Humans have not evolved enough to walk around on 6 inch wedges.” You then proceeded to ask me what I meant by “evolve”, and then you said, “oh its not the heel, they are from Payless”. That’s your problem Rocket Scientist. Cheap shoes equals foot pain. I could insult you right to your face, and unless I spoke in minimal syllable words, you would not get it.
I almost shat my pants the other day when you obliviously left your cell phone ringer on high and left to go take one of those long breaks where we wonder sometimes if you got lost or hope you were kidnapped. (By the fashion police that is). I was minding my own business, busting my ass doing your work, and all of the sudden, Louder than a Chipotle fart in a car, I hear the sound of some obnoxious rapper screaming with the sounds of gun shots going off in the background. I almost dropped to the floor and rolled under my desk; wasn’t taking any chances considering we work in N.W., near the Whitehouse.
Lastly, for now that is. Your voice is worse than any length plastic finger nail scratched on any black board in the history of man……More vicious than two cats humping in my ear canal……Worse than any baby screaming after being in a well for 3 days…..worse than hearing my mom grunt while being on top of my dad…..Oh the agony of your baby voice. Sometimes your voice gets so high pitched, I think all dogs within 2 miles, perk their heads up and begin running. I cannot take it anymore!!! You look and dress like a 13-year-old drag queen stuck in the ass crevasse of a 40 year old BBW. Your voice, your clothes, the winter hat you wear when you “didn’t get your hair did”(even though our boss has repeatedly told you not to wear it because its unprofessional)…..everything you do including breathing, annoys me. The only thing about you that does not annoy me is when you go home. Which is usually 2 hours before your regular time, you lazy fucking idiot.