tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8387588.post3193601580470506794..comments2023-10-18T03:53:59.377-04:00Comments on The Last Debate: A Perfect[ly Hideous] GiftAndyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13524483460829802534noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8387588.post-37779270182299444072007-08-16T22:53:00.000-04:002007-08-16T22:53:00.000-04:00OK, why no picture ;)? Share the horror.OK, why no picture ;)? Share the horror.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8387588.post-30171972538553358962007-08-16T10:57:00.000-04:002007-08-16T10:57:00.000-04:00I love the final sentence of this post.I love the final sentence of this post.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8387588.post-91754582225543285942007-08-16T10:42:00.000-04:002007-08-16T10:42:00.000-04:00Hysterical! They said, "fucking"! In your office...Hysterical! They said, "fucking"! In your office! Fabulous! I'm thinking maybe you should reconsider staying and just negotiate some kind of deal whereby you're allowed, because you're doing such specialised work, to both make more money AND read the NYT (and write your own blog, even if not read anyone else's) online. I mean, come on! I knew I liked my office/job/boss when I was sitting in a private conference with her one day, and she went off on a tirade about/against someone whom we both dislike and used the "F-word". I felt so validated I could've hugged her, and frankly, neither of us is the huggy sort.DJRainDoghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12921792163789635507noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8387588.post-77312108166598731632007-08-16T02:02:00.000-04:002007-08-16T02:02:00.000-04:00Oh, my God, I love this story.Does this event make...Oh, my God, I love this story.<BR/><BR/>Does this event make you hate your job any less?Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8387588.post-64735014644487950962007-08-15T23:28:00.000-04:002007-08-15T23:28:00.000-04:00just you describing it made me wanna wretch.short ...just you describing it made me wanna wretch.<BR/><BR/>short story:<BR/>i sent the blonde flowers for valentine day, delivered to her office. they never got there.<BR/>two days later, i recieved a call from the shop apologising for fucking up, offered to refund the credit card, and re?deliver the flowers. (this explains why the Blonde was too busy to take my calls for two days)<BR/>the next day, they got there, and it was goddam 'get well/sorry you died' type arrangement. and not even close to what i paid for (or not).<BR/><BR/>six months later, she still laughing.Ginohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09606046924332159076noreply@blogger.com