Real sorry you lost the competition big guy. Big, tatted-up deep-voiced guy. But you are most assuredly my "top" chef. And to prove it, I'd like you to come over and fuck me 'till I cry.
To the AngerDyke supervisor I currently report to:
I'm done playin'. I like my job and I'm good at it. You're in my way, you suck as a manager, and I'm sick of you making me feel bad about myself. You don't know who you're playing with. I stared down death, bitch. Live and Let Live Spiritual Me has been sent away. Evil Scheming Angry Fag is loose. You're toast.
To people approaching the checkout counters where I work:
Hang up your fucking cell call and acknowledge the presence of the human being saying hello, taking your credit card or cash and putting your purchases in a bag for you. It's unbelievably rude!
To the naked, overweight Indian man that spent a 1/2hr. wandering without a towel around the shower/sauna area at my gym:
The hair dryers are not provided so that you can dry off your balls. Find a towel and then use it. And keep your "super-heated ball air" from blowing over my way as I'm getting ready to leave. I don't feel like smelling like overweight Indian genitalia all day. Thanks to Sean for reminding me on that one.
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