An Award-Winning Disclaimer

A charming little Magpie whispered this disclaimer into my ear, and I'm happy to regurgitate it into your sweet little mouth:

"Disclaimer: This blog is not responsible for those of you who start to laugh and piss your pants a little. Although this blogger understands the role he has played (in that, if you had not been laughing you may not have pissed yourself), he assumes no liability for damages caused and will not pay your dry cleaning bill.

These views represent the thoughts and opinions of a blogger clearly superior to yourself in every way. If you're in any way offended by any of the content on this blog, it is clearly not the blog for you. Kindly exit the page by clicking on the small 'x' you see at the top right of the screen, and go fuck yourself."

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

At the Risk of Being Referential

I'm waiting.

I'm waiting for them to call.

Not me.  Them.

I'm waiting for them to call, um, them.

They're going to call them.

At least, I think they're going to call them.

Hopefully, they'll call them.

God, please don't call them.

Wait.  Wait.  Wait.

I am waiting.  For them.

They're going to call them, I know they are.  They said they'd call.

Why haven't they called them yet?

I'd know if they called them.  They'd tell me.

Well, they wouldn't tell me.  But they would.

(Obviously.)

What will they say when they're called?

Dependable.

Reliable.

Polite.

Diligent.

Funny.

Sarcastic?

Negative.

Worrisome.

Dedicated, though.

Honest.  To a fault.

Cynical.

But always early.

He's always early.

He's overcompensating, but he's still early.

It looks good on paper.

On the time-clock.

On the swipe-card.

Dresses well.

Hair is combed like it's 1964.

Glasses, too.  Same vintage.  Same deal.

He wants to stand out, yet he wants to hide in the corner.

Hide in the dark.

Head down, writing notes.

Writing writing writing.  He's always writing.

What's he writing, anyway?

He can smalltalk.  It looks as though it's killing him, but he does it.

He has things to do.

Walks briskly.

Eats his lunch in private.

He's private.

He'll tell you anything-- if you ask.

If you don't.

A renaissance man.  Knows a little about a lot.

Or is it a lot about a little.

You won't have to write another letter again-- he'll do it.

He can find your voice.

Steal your voice.

He can do it.

No math.  He was told there'd be no math.

No skills, lots of personality.

Neuroses.

Idiosyncratic.

Charming.

Poor eye-contact.

Disorganized.

Chaotic.

Bright affect.

Once he's comfortable, you'll want to fire him every day.

But you find you can't.

Thorny.

Seductive.

Hard-working.

Do-nothing.

Go-getter.

Farts quietly.

He's bringing back the necktie.

You'll love the one with all the carrots and one white rabbit.

He's going to eat all the carrots, you know.

He'll tell you so.

Just ask his references-- they'll tell you, too.

2 comments:

  1. I think "farts quietly" is a very nice thing to say about a person.

    Best of luck!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Silent but deadly. That's my friend.

    ReplyDelete

Got something to say? Rock on with your badass apron!