Not the Tylester!
Hit by the cloak of failure
Smeag's thong protects you
The Tylester got hit by what I like to call a drunken man having a seizure brought on by a concentrated sniff of Smeagol's thong, AKA butt hash (Wikipedia that, it is a real drug)(No I haven't tried it) I made him promise to go to the doctor or face the wrath of Smeagol's cloak of failure for all eternity, I think I scared him into going.
I hated Greyskull. I am not sure if you all knew that or not, and funnily enough I no longer hate her as much since she has no power over me anymore, but in those gentle times I hated her with a passion usually reserved for concocting my coveted baby gravy recipe (only takes 3 minutes to make!), and there was usually a lot of passion in that particular act.
We had a technology retreat, which was apparently code for "experience the most awkward weekend in your entire friggin life", and I know I had spoken about what happened there and how the Coven of Cunt reacted, which was lame in and of itself, but I never spoke on the aftermath. But before I do, check this shit out!
How Many 5 year olds can you Beat up? I can whoop 32!
Alright anyway back to the story. Greyskull came out after they finished crying and watching Steel Magnolias or whatever, and asked me into her office. Now you may wonder if the brave Stevester was afraid, since you have never had 2 manager's meetings in a day. O ye of so little faith. I have had 4 manager's meetings in a single day, and I am proud of every time I was asked in there, from my off color comments, to making Flanders cry because I do not want to fellate Jesus like he does, to grunting out all of my verbal utterings for an entire morning, yes I was proud of those achievements. They are what got me the job I have today.
Anyway, I mosey into Greyskull's lair, and plop down in the chair that was quickly getting an imprint of my butt in it from all the times I had to sit in it, and smile impishly at Santa, who was crying outside the door because he wanted to lap up some of Greyskull's love milk and felt as if she was cheating on him when she had someone else in her office.
I ventured a glance into the face of my mortal enemy, and was a tad taken aback. Man she looked pissed! Her jowls jiggled dangerously as she gripped her pen as if it was a Slim Jim that a hillbilly had tried to take away, and her butt-ball squeaked in protest.
"If you EVER insult Shitface or Scumbucket (her 2 bosses) again, I will fire you." Whatev, ho, whatev. She then went on about how I insulted everyone's intelligence by not talking or ignoring them, I dunno I was thinking about some of the heinies on the 6th floor, gently tickling my prostate and ignoring her. Sadly not all the nicest heinies belonged to the ladies (I'm talking about you, Will).
I was brought out of my daydream by Greyskull informing me that as punishment, I was hereby ordered to move my desk away from Max and Derka, whome I had come to love in a completely platonic way, to sit by Flanders, who I could hear right outside the door informing someone he could not resolve their issue because he was too busy, a common theme in his phone calls. I mean, really, why would you CALL someone to tell the you are too busy to work on their issue? Does that not waste more time and take the ticket from someone with a brain who might be able to work on it?
Monday: the Move, or some other completely random story.