Don, I'm sooo sick of your constant criticism. You get terrible service most everywhere your go. Most movies and entertainment in general aren't up to your lofty standards. And since when are you the allknowing fashion expert?
I was lucky enough to get moved further away from you at work. You now have all this extra space for your use, and it's not enough--you creep your way toward me like a venomous snake. Well I do not like snakes.
Just shut the fuck up, will you. No one cares about your silly opinions and judgements. I would think that being a minority would make you a more compassionate person. But no. Not you, you pompous ass. Get....over....your....self.
I'd like to see your pompous ass hit the ground with all your horses draggin' it to Timfuckingbuktu. You're loud, giggle like a little girl on acid, and think you're an expert on every subject and you're facts are always wrong. If you give the excuse one more time that you have too much on your mind to remember simple rules the rest of your coworkers manage to follow, I'm going to sabotage you for as long as still I have to work with you. I think it's hilarious your new mustache likens you to Hitler and ages you about 30 years (not good when you're pushing sixty).
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