Greyskull annoys me
why can't I talk to my friends?
Her buttball just squeaks
So the time had come when I guess Greyskull had had enough of my bad attitude and lack of brown nosing, and I cannot 100% say I blame her. I have a brown nose, it should be natural! I guess she was annoyed that I did not care to listen to her tales of shooting innocent deer and ripping the heads off of wild boars with her bare hands in order to consume their pitiful souls or defeating a grizzly bear in unarmed combat with nary a scratch to show for it, when Santa and Flanders were sitting on the edges of their seats, hands up in begging mode like little puppies, yearning for her to spray their faces with her retarded meanderings. Santa was the worst. Dear God when you come in to work an hour early, you are a fucking shitfaced loser. When you come in an hour and a half early to kiss up to management so that you do not take any time from the company whilst you are in there nose-nuzzling her taint, you are Santa.
Flanders was bad, but I have to give him props he did not spend a quarter as much time in Greyskull's office as Santa did, preferring to bother me. And since I am in an honest mood, I will say until he started asking stupid questions, which started....no he annoyed me almost all the time, fuck him.
Anyway, this was before I was punished by having to move my desk in front of her office, forced to listen to her orgasm whilst eating all manner of lard-infused food, I have to credit her with me losing like 10 pounds, I mean listening to someone slop and slurp on food 10 feet away kinda removes your appetite, know what I mean Vern?
Anyway I am getting away from today's tale.
Greyskull called me into her office on a bright afternoon, to talk about my communication skills, which I am starting to think meant she had nothing else to do so it was time to fuck with the Stevester time. I went in, sat down in my usual pose (leaned all the way back, arms crossed, eyes almost shur) and she started in with her usual lead-in: "Stevester, you are so technically sound, I mean you know how to fix things all the time' - duh, whore, that's kind of my job -' but you need to work on your communication skills. I know you find it tough to communicate with others, heck I used to have issues communicating without intimidating '- the other bison -' and it took a conscious effort to take a step back and see how the customer sees me, as a big'- you ain't whistlin Dixie sister -' overbearing person who consumed the souls of kittens in order to maintain my power' -Meow-CRACK-sluuuuuurp -'and was also very technically savvy..." she rambled on, talking about how I made certain "unnamed" people feel, while I could hear Flanders and Santa crying in eachother's arms off in the distance, while the cone of productivity that had encircled our tight knit group dwindled further and further into the cauldron of retardedness, tiny fingers of stupid pulling at me from all directions (except the direction I LIKE tiny fingers to pull on me, High Five!) into the deep, dank caverns of Fucking Idiocy.
I snap out of my daydream about Queen Latifah and Alicia Keyes fighting over who gets to narfle my garthok after I won the superbowl and karawte kicked Hitler's head off, and she is telling me she plans on sending me to a class to learn how to deal with people. At this point I am so stoked to not have to come in and deal with idiots like, well Greyskull and Jerk Guy Who Sat Behind Development that I jump at the chance, foolishly walking right into her trap like a spider walks into the lair of the pickled pinata.
She informs me that some of my teammates have already been signed up for this class at different times, which at the time I automatically assumed meant Coog and Lollipop, as Derka has a vagina and therefore was not subject to the same tortures as the rest of us, Max was easygoing, as was Preu, which left either Terrorist Prit or me, and I was the only one who did not have her stink skids on my face out of the two of us from all the ass kissing...but I digress, I am only jealous because all of the aforementioned people could mimic different nationalities while all of mine sounded Australian.
Anyway, I don't believe her but what the hell, I can use some team learnin! She makes a big deal over how much they are spending on the class, like I give a shit. I have to give her an itinerary, and it is then I start to see how fucked up this is going to be: How can you teack communication skills and take up 7 fucking hours doing so? I had planned on going to this class for 2 or 3 hours, jerking off on a homeless guy at McDonalds, slapping Smeagol in the jowls and then going home, not what was in essence a full day at work, Fuck Dat!
Later: How the Class Changed my life, and a real live picture of my mad credentials.