<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442</id><updated>2011-04-21T21:05:43.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'>People I work with</title><subtitle type='html'>I am the original Mean Employee.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>61</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-111116252054552045</id><published>2005-03-18T08:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-18T08:15:20.546-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Office Gossip - St. Patty's Day Edition</title><content type='html'>Well well well, the mean employee is back and back with a fucking vengenance.  Let me start with Staten Island Girl #1 who we will call Mary for this story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary is a fucking cokehead bitch.  She thought she was slick last night when she left the office with the fat kid to go out for drinks.  Apparently, the fat boy must be her pusher and supplying her with the shit.  So anyway, I'm wondering what happen between the two of them but more word from later on in the night was from a friend that doesn't work here.  The friend that doesn't work here said that Mary, high on coke, was calling him all night long.  12am, 1am, 2am, 3am, 4am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to tell everyone about this shit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-111116252054552045?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/111116252054552045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=111116252054552045' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/111116252054552045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/111116252054552045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/03/office-gossip-st-pattys-day-edition.html' title='Office Gossip - St. Patty&apos;s Day Edition'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-111116207545479479</id><published>2005-03-18T08:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-18T08:07:55.456-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Whack your Boss</title><content type='html'>I know I want to sometimes....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.whackyourboss.com"&gt;HERE&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to &lt;a href="http://www.screenhead.com"&gt;Screenhead&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-111116207545479479?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/111116207545479479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=111116207545479479' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/111116207545479479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/111116207545479479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/03/whack-your-boss.html' title='Whack your Boss'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-111090766474712623</id><published>2005-03-15T09:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-03-15T09:27:44.750-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Its been a while....</title><content type='html'>I was on vacation trying to get away from these assholes which was wonderful.  But now I'm back and talking more shit than ever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me start with the office moves.  Apparently, mgmt felt the need to move everyone around while I was away.  WTF is that?  I don't like 90% of the people that work in this office and they just moved a majority of these people so they're even closer to me now.  That is way not cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Secondly, I can't stand these people even more now.  There is one person in particular here, a girl from Staten Island who is the nastiest bitch ever.  I mean, she's got a son in a lockdown institution b/c he's a drug dealer and on top of that, she dates clients and whatnot.  So nasty.  I am so sick of people like her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More to come later......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-111090766474712623?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/111090766474712623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=111090766474712623' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/111090766474712623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/111090766474712623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/03/its-been-while.html' title='Its been a while....'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110919057914477860</id><published>2005-02-23T12:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-23T12:29:39.143-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Office Gossip</title><content type='html'>The big with the Big Tits has moved into another group.  I don't really have an opinion on this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110919057914477860?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110919057914477860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110919057914477860' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110919057914477860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110919057914477860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/02/office-gossip_23.html' title='Office Gossip'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110919052486253733</id><published>2005-02-23T12:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-23T12:28:44.863-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When the cat is away.............</title><content type='html'>So this week the boss has been away and it has been absolutely lovely.  In addition to him being out, one of the big managers is out until tomorrow - which has also been very nice.  So in short, I have done absolutely nothing productive all week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110919052486253733?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110919052486253733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110919052486253733' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110919052486253733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110919052486253733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/02/when-cat-is-away.html' title='When the cat is away.............'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110912272592143878</id><published>2005-02-22T17:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-22T17:38:45.923-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Follow up</title><content type='html'>so yeah, the russian lady that was the super-duper admin of the year is gone.  in the time she's left, my company has gone thru 3 people already.  the first one, B, looked like death walking.  she had this black long Elvira-eseq hair with long nails.  the second, lefttoday as she must have thought using MS Word as much as she did, fried her brain.  so i'm starting to miss the russian.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110912272592143878?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110912272592143878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110912272592143878' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110912272592143878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110912272592143878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/02/follow-up.html' title='Follow up'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110839792621822125</id><published>2005-02-14T08:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-14T08:18:46.236-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Office Dares</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;ONE-POINT OFFICE DARES &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:maroon;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Run one lap around the office at top  speed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:maroon;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Groan out loud in the bathroom cubicle  (at least one other 'non-player' must be in the bathroom at the time).  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:maroon;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;3) Ignore the first five people who say  'good morning' to you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:maroon;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Phone someone in the office you barely  know, leave your name and say "Just called to say I can't talk right now. Bye".  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:maroon;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) To signal the end of a conversation,  clamp your hands over your ears and grimace. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:maroon;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) Leave your zipper open for one hour. If  anyone points it out, say, “Sorry, I really prefer it this way".  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:maroon;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) Walk sideways to the photocopier.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:maroon;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) While riding an elevator, gasp  dramatically every time the doors open. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:maroon;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                            &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;THREE-POINTS DARES &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) Say to your boss, "I like your style"  and shoot him with double-barreled fingers. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) Babble incoherently at a fellow  employee then ask "Did you get all that, I don't want to have to repeat it".  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11) Page yourself over the intercom (do  not disguise your voice). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12) Kneel in front of the water cooler and  drink directly from the nozzle (there must be a 'non-player' within sight).  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13) Shout random numbers while someone is  counting. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FIVE POINT DARES &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14) At the end of a meeting, suggest that,  for once, it would be nice to conclude with the singing of the national anthem  (extra points if you actually launch into it yourself). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15) Walk into a very busy person's office  and while they watch you with growing irritation, turn the light switch on/off  10 times. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16) For an hour, refer to everyone you  speak to as "Bob". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17) Announce to everyone in a meeting that  you "really have to go do a number two". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18) After every sentence, say 'mon' in a  really bad Jamaican accent. As in "the report is on your desk, mon". Keep this  up for one hour. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19) While an office mate is out, move  their chair into the elevator. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20) In a meeting or crowded situation,  slap your forehead repeatedly and mutter, "Shut up, damn it, all of you just  shut up!". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21) At lunchtime, get down on your knees  and announce "As God is my witness, I'll never go hungry again".  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22) In a colleague’s diary, write in 10am:  "See how I look in tights". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23) Carry your keyboard over to your  colleague and ask "You wanna trade?". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24) Repeat the following conversation 10  times to the same person: “Do you hear that?" "What?” Never mind, it's gone  now". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25) Come to work in army fatigues and when  asked why, say, "I can't talk about it". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26) Posing as a maitre d', call a  colleague and tell him he's won a lunch for four at a local restaurant. Let him  go. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27) Speak with an accent (French, German,  Porky Pig, etc) during a very important conference call. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28) Find the vacuum and start vacuuming  around your desk. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;color:black;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: maroon;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; color: black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29) Hang a two-foot long piece of toilet  roll from the back of your pants and act genuinely surprised when someone points  it out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110839792621822125?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110839792621822125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110839792621822125' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110839792621822125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110839792621822125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/02/office-dares.html' title='Office Dares'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110839493366533261</id><published>2005-02-14T07:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-14T07:28:53.666-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Everyone gets flowers today</title><content type='html'>Yes it's Valentine's Day today.  That means the whole office will smell of fucking flowers.  People who have allergies will sneeze all day long in an event to get me sick.  Great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually today isn't so bad as I called in sick just to hang out.  I haven't done that in a while and boy does it feel good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110839493366533261?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110839493366533261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110839493366533261' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110839493366533261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110839493366533261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/02/everyone-gets-flowers-today.html' title='Everyone gets flowers today'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110787327119855375</id><published>2005-02-08T06:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-08T06:34:31.196-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My manager is a moron</title><content type='html'>He used to be somewhat cool before, but now he's a greedy little pig.  Not only that, but he is absolutely promoting everyone else here to fight with each other over sales.  He should be kicked in the nuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110787327119855375?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110787327119855375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110787327119855375' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110787327119855375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110787327119855375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/02/my-manager-is-moron.html' title='My manager is a moron'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110780506261113956</id><published>2005-02-07T11:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-07T11:37:42.610-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Office Gossip</title><content type='html'>Apparently, the girl with big tits is moving to another division of the company.  I was wrong in saying she was getting fired.  I'm betting that it's only gonna be a couple of months now.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110780506261113956?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110780506261113956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110780506261113956' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110780506261113956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110780506261113956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/02/office-gossip.html' title='Office Gossip'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110780430335186223</id><published>2005-02-07T11:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-07T11:25:03.350-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You're Fired!  Part III</title><content type='html'>Apparently, last friday when I came in hungover and sick and high as a kite on everything, my bosses ended up firing the older russian lady that was serving as my assistant.  Totally sucks.  She had a really bad russian accent, but she was cool.  I'm sad to see her go.  A post on her replacement later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110780430335186223?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110780430335186223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110780430335186223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110780430335186223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110780430335186223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/02/youre-fired-part-iii.html' title='You&apos;re Fired!  Part III'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110745783591884905</id><published>2005-02-03T11:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-03T11:10:35.920-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome back</title><content type='html'>I've been sick and not in a work-blogging mood.  Everyone here is still an asshole and I wish they would all die.  Well, maybe not die that's a bit extreme.  In any case, new issue of Office Gossip coming soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW - The girl with the big boobies didn't get fired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110745783591884905?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110745783591884905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110745783591884905' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110745783591884905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110745783591884905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/02/welcome-back.html' title='Welcome back'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110694854961430267</id><published>2005-01-28T13:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-28T13:42:29.613-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Its been so long</title><content type='html'>I can't believe I haven't complained about this shit house in the last 3 days.  Well time to play catch up.  My boss thinks he's the shit and I've gotten to the point where I totally can't stand him.  I'm so pissed that I could scratch his brains out.  He's old, fat and bald and probaly has a small dick.  Tinks he knows everything. &lt;br /&gt;This staten island bitch is driving me crazy also.  I've had enough of just about everyone today.  People should just fucking go away.  I love it when people get their hair cut or nails done during their lunch hours.  Fuck everybody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm ready to quit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110694854961430267?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110694854961430267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110694854961430267' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110694854961430267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110694854961430267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/01/its-been-so-long.html' title='Its been so long'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110658206895703498</id><published>2005-01-24T07:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-24T07:54:28.956-08:00</updated><title type='text'>God help me</title><content type='html'>Okay, the fat jewish girl I cannot stand is at it again.  I think I may actually have to tell her off (again) today.  I mean, how many times do you think one person wants to be told what an annoying bitch they are?  This girl doesn't seem to care.  I'm tempted to tell her everyone hates her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110658206895703498?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110658206895703498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110658206895703498' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110658206895703498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110658206895703498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/01/god-help-me.html' title='God help me'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110609018014183028</id><published>2005-01-18T15:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-18T15:16:20.140-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Say goodmight to the girl with big titties</title><content type='html'>Because she's getting fired.  Kinda sad but she just never got this job.  Oh well, she's still young.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110609018014183028?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110609018014183028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110609018014183028' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110609018014183028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110609018014183028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/01/say-goodmight-to-girl-with-big-titties.html' title='Say goodmight to the girl with big titties'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110573329657841170</id><published>2005-01-14T13:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-14T12:08:16.576-08:00</updated><title type='text'>40 Things....</title><content type='html'>YOU'D LIKE TO SAY OUT LOUD AT WORK&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. "I can see your point, but I still think you're full of shit."&lt;br /&gt;2. "I don't know what your problem is, but I'll bet it's hard to pronounce."&lt;br /&gt;3. "How about never? Is never good for you?"&lt;br /&gt;4. "I see you've set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public."&lt;br /&gt;5. "I'm really easy to get along with once you people learn to see it my way."&lt;br /&gt;6. "I'll try being nicer if you'll try being smarter."&lt;br /&gt;7. "I'm out of my mind, but feel free to leave a message."&lt;br /&gt;8. "I don't work here. I'm a consultant."&lt;br /&gt;9. "It sounds like English, but I can't understand a damn word you're saying."&lt;br /&gt;10. "Ahhh...I see the screw-up fairy has visited us again."&lt;br /&gt;11. "I like you. You remind me of myself when I was young and stupid."&lt;br /&gt;12. "You are validating my inherent mistrust of strangers."&lt;br /&gt;13. "I have plenty of talent and vision. I just don't give a damn."&lt;br /&gt;14. "I'm already visualizing the duct tape over your mouth."&lt;br /&gt;15. "I will always cherish the initial misconceptions I had about you."&lt;br /&gt;16. "Thank you. We're all refreshed and challenged by your unique point of view."&lt;br /&gt;17. "The fact that no one understands you doesn't mean you're an artist."&lt;br /&gt;18. "Any connection between your reality and mine is purely coincidental."&lt;br /&gt;19. "What am I? Flypaper for freaks!?"&lt;br /&gt;20. "I'm not being rude. You're just insignificant."&lt;br /&gt;21. "It's a thankless job, but I've got a lot of Karma to burn off."&lt;br /&gt;22. "Yes, I am an agent of Satan, but my duties are largely ceremonial."&lt;br /&gt;23. "And your crybaby whiny-assed opinion would be...?"&lt;br /&gt;24. "Do I look like a people person?"&lt;br /&gt;25. "This isn't an office. It's Hell with fluorescent lighting."&lt;br /&gt;26. "I started out with nothing and I still have most of it left."&lt;br /&gt;27. "Sarcasm is just one more service we offer."&lt;br /&gt;28. "If I throw a stick, will you leave?"&lt;br /&gt;29. "Errors have been made. Others will be blamed."&lt;br /&gt;30. "Whatever kind of look you were going for, you missed."&lt;br /&gt;31. "I'm trying to imagine you with a personality."&lt;br /&gt;32. "A cubicle is just a padded cell without a door."&lt;br /&gt;33. "Can I trade this job for what's behind door #1?"&lt;br /&gt;34. "Too many freaks, not enough circuses."&lt;br /&gt;35. "Nice perfume. Must you marinate in it?"&lt;br /&gt;36. "Chaos, panic, and disorder - my work here is done."&lt;br /&gt;37. "How do I set a laser printer to stun?"&lt;br /&gt;38. "I thought I wanted a career. Turns out I just wanted a salary."&lt;br /&gt;39. "Who lit the fuse on your tampon?"&lt;br /&gt;40. "Oh I get it... like humor... but different!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110573329657841170?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110573329657841170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110573329657841170' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110573329657841170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110573329657841170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/01/40-things.html' title='40 Things....'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110572177177397996</id><published>2005-01-14T08:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-14T08:56:11.773-08:00</updated><title type='text'>TGIF</title><content type='html'>Yes I like to use those stupid acronyms, so sue me.  Anyway, I could not be happier that today is friday.  The Office has been very busy this week and I'm looking forward to a nice weekend of relaxation.  I have been rather inundated with work and have been trying to tune those who annoy me out, but guess what?  NO LUCK.  F everyone.  Leave me the hell alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And why in God's name does the fat girl need to come around my desk, stare at my computer screen to ask me a question?  Get the hell away you nosy bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110572177177397996?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110572177177397996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110572177177397996' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110572177177397996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110572177177397996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/01/tgif.html' title='TGIF'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110572159376049543</id><published>2005-01-14T08:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-14T08:53:13.760-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yes, it looks different</title><content type='html'>That bright green template was hurting my eyes.  Something more suitable....greyish beige.  Nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110572159376049543?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110572159376049543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110572159376049543' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110572159376049543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110572159376049543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/01/yes-it-looks-different.html' title='Yes, it looks different'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110555892008466818</id><published>2005-01-12T11:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-12T11:43:13.173-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Tuesday, another staff meeting</title><content type='html'>holy fucking shit am I sick of these meetings. It's really just an hour and a half of absolute bullshit. People in this organization are dumber than...whoever the dumbest person you know. They all outdo each other for the "Stupid person in the office" prize. I really don't know how many times you can ask THE EXACT SAME QUESTION or TALK ABOUT THE SAME ISSUE over and over again until I want to gauge my eyes out. Jesus Christ already people, get a fucking clue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that, it has been a rather unproductive day for me.  I'm just waiting until 530pm when it's time to go home and smoke a fat spliff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110555892008466818?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110555892008466818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110555892008466818' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110555892008466818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110555892008466818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/01/another-tuesday-another-staff-meeting.html' title='Another Tuesday, another staff meeting'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110554346825969774</id><published>2005-01-12T07:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-12T07:24:28.260-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Everyone needs to go away</title><content type='html'>Okay yesterday was very frustrating.  I sit right across from the big tit girl (now referred to BT) and she has this annoying voice that is like nails scratching on the board for me.  She starts laughing at everything all the time and its driving me crazy.  On top of that, the fat girl I can't stand interrupted me about 90 times and I finally lost it on her.  I'm skating on thin ice because mgmt thinks I can't get along with anyone (don't know where they got that idea from) but I doubt anything will happen to me because I really am all-star Numero Uno.  I'm trying to tune these people out but it just isn't working.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110554346825969774?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110554346825969774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110554346825969774' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110554346825969774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110554346825969774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/01/everyone-needs-to-go-away.html' title='Everyone needs to go away'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110545921608297992</id><published>2005-01-11T07:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-11T08:00:16.083-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Creepy little guy</title><content type='html'>He's back.  This guy is so creepy, he would creep anyone out.  It turns out people hgave been calling my extension looking for him.  I just sent the dude an email explaining I am not the receptionist and he can go fuck himself.  Well, that's not really what I said but something like that.  Anyway, this place has become a baby factory.  Everyone is pregnant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110545921608297992?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110545921608297992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110545921608297992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110545921608297992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110545921608297992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/01/creepy-little-guy.html' title='Creepy little guy'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110538245375766117</id><published>2005-01-10T10:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-10T10:40:53.756-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I wish it was friday</title><content type='html'>A lot of people are feeling the same way.  I haven't been too busy and so the day seems to be dragging.  I had some work to do this morning but since have been pretty lazy.  In other office news, the main admin just told everyone she's expecting.  I think boss man will need to open up a small nursery with all the women getting prego.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110538245375766117?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110538245375766117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110538245375766117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110538245375766117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110538245375766117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/01/i-wish-it-was-friday.html' title='I wish it was friday'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110512470610616008</id><published>2005-01-07T11:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-07T11:05:06.106-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yes its your fault</title><content type='html'>This isn't gossip so much as it is some venting.  There is a woman that I work with, from Staten Island, and boy is she fucked up.  She's been here a while longer than I have and I guess she's doing ok.  ANYWAY....she is a mother to a really fucked up 15 year old kid.  I feel kinda bad for her but at the same time, she raised him and what he's become is part her fault.  The story is that her son is selling drugs and she has now sent him to some type of military school.  While this woman and I were friends, I'm not really interested in having any communication other than a working relationship with her.  She actually used to fuck one of my friends also and he even thinks she's certificable.  Acutally he's just as crazy as her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is work related how, you must be asking?  Well she calls into the office and then doesn't even ask to speak to me after I just covered her shit for the last 2 days.  Fuck that bitch.  She's obviously gotten hers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110512470610616008?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110512470610616008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110512470610616008' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110512470610616008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110512470610616008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/01/yes-its-your-fault.html' title='Yes its your fault'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110511340750978022</id><published>2005-01-07T07:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-07T07:56:47.510-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I feel it coming.....the calm before the storm</title><content type='html'>I have a feeling that the girl with big tits might be getting fired.  Developing......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110511340750978022?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110511340750978022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110511340750978022' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110511340750978022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110511340750978022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/01/i-feel-it-comingthe-calm-before-storm.html' title='I feel it coming.....the calm before the storm'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110504703738618864</id><published>2005-01-06T13:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-06T13:30:37.386-08:00</updated><title type='text'>No I can't get you anything</title><content type='html'>This annoys me a lot.  When going down for lunch or a snack, I don't want to have to bring you or anyone else a sode, cookie, milk, coffee, whatever.  Let me get my own shit in peace, will ya?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110504703738618864?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110504703738618864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110504703738618864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110504703738618864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110504703738618864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/01/no-i-cant-get-you-anything.html' title='No I can&apos;t get you anything'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110495449975571479</id><published>2005-01-05T11:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-05T11:48:19.756-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Office Gossip, Part 2 </title><content type='html'>I hear that the fat guy whom I used to dislike might be getting fired because he was high on Vicodin when he went to see a client.  Developing.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110495449975571479?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110495449975571479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110495449975571479' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110495449975571479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110495449975571479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/01/office-gossip-part-2.html' title='Office Gossip, Part 2 '/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110495437070703987</id><published>2005-01-05T11:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-05T11:46:10.706-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Staff Meeting</title><content type='html'>Every tuesday, we have our staff meeting.  Usually my boss runs the show with everyone pissing about about what they hate, who pulled their hair, why the stuff they work on sucks, etc.  I don't normally participate because I'm always afraid I'm going to yell out "YOU'RE ALL FUCKING IDIOTS ANYWAY!" at some point.  Today was almost that day.  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ALMOST&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a couple of blondes in the office, but one in particular that makes Paris Hilton look intelligent.  When discussing an issue that is rather important to everyone in the office (Visa trnsfers) the Dumb Bonde just interrupts everyone and then continues to rant about it for the next 7 minutes.  I know it was 7 minutes cuz I timed her.  Finally, after 10 mins, this fat guy in my office told her to shut the fuck up.  At that point, all hell broke loose.  The point is, people do this all the time, interrupt when someone hasn't finished explaining something.  Then we all go off onto 20 different tangents and you forget what the fuck you had even started talking about. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had another huge headache and just couldn't take it anymore.  I excused myself from the meeting claiming I had to see a client, when all I did was go to Starbucks and had a Latte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110495437070703987?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110495437070703987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110495437070703987' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110495437070703987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110495437070703987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/01/staff-meeting.html' title='Staff Meeting'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110487817244985185</id><published>2005-01-04T14:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-04T14:36:12.450-08:00</updated><title type='text'>No blogging today</title><content type='html'>as no one really pissed me off.  I actually don't really have anything bad to say about anyone today.  shocker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110487817244985185?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110487817244985185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110487817244985185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110487817244985185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110487817244985185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/01/no-blogging-today.html' title='No blogging today'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110477606375034569</id><published>2005-01-03T10:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-03T10:14:23.750-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the new year</title><content type='html'>will hopefully bring me peace and quiet from all these assholes.  i was really hoping to have a relax day but its already crazy.  not mention i have a headache the size of Belgium.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110477606375034569?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110477606375034569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110477606375034569' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110477606375034569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110477606375034569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2005/01/new-year.html' title='the new year'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110449778153165732</id><published>2004-12-31T04:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-31T04:56:21.530-08:00</updated><title type='text'>No work today</title><content type='html'>Thank god.  But it's back to the old ball and chain on monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110449778153165732?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110449778153165732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110449778153165732' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110449778153165732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110449778153165732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/no-work-today.html' title='No work today'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110443258717007300</id><published>2004-12-30T10:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-30T10:49:47.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happ new year fuckholes</title><content type='html'>see you in 2005.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110443258717007300?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110443258717007300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110443258717007300' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110443258717007300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110443258717007300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/happ-new-year-fuckholes.html' title='Happ new year fuckholes'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110427146422776737</id><published>2004-12-28T13:59:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-28T14:04:24.226-08:00</updated><title type='text'>She didn't come to lunch</title><content type='html'>Thank god I didn't have to sit thru lunch with the big titty girl.  Thai food can be good but it sure doesn't digest well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that, it's another short week which means less of these people I have to see.  My boss is out this week which is awesome cause we can all come into the office dressed casually.  It's nice not having to get all dressed up to come to work on cold days like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110427146422776737?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110427146422776737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110427146422776737' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110427146422776737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110427146422776737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/she-didnt-come-to-lunch.html' title='She didn&apos;t come to lunch'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110427129341826180</id><published>2004-12-28T13:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-28T14:01:33.426-08:00</updated><title type='text'>She didn't come to lunch</title><content type='html'>Thank god I didn't have to sit thru lunch with the big titty girl.  Thai food can be good but it sure doesn't digest well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that, it's another short week which means less of these people I have to see.  My boss is out this week which is awesome cause we can all come into the office dressed casually.  It's nice not having to get all dressed up to come to work on cold days like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110427129341826180?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110427129341826180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110427129341826180' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110427129341826180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110427129341826180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/she-didnt-come-to-lunch_28.html' title='She didn&apos;t come to lunch'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110425060729489910</id><published>2004-12-28T08:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-28T08:16:47.293-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Good God</title><content type='html'>Okay I'm really on my last nerve with the new girl with big thingies.  Her laugh is so annoying.  Not only that, but she constantly insists on laughing at EVERYTHING.  One of the managers is taking us all to lunch today and the last thing I need is to listen to that Fran Drescher like laugh for a hour.  It's bad enough I sit right by her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that, it's been a rather productive month for me.  I'm happy with the goals I set and achieved for myself.  Hopefully I can keep it rolling into '05. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110425060729489910?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110425060729489910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110425060729489910' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110425060729489910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110425060729489910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/good-god.html' title='Good God'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110417248760915599</id><published>2004-12-27T10:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-27T10:34:47.610-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Office Gossip</title><content type='html'>This is the first installment of Office Gossip.  I will be regularly posting any and all office gossip I hear about.  In this issue:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found out that the nasty black guy that heads payroll locked lips with the uptight blonde from Texas.  Holy shit!  If you knew what opposites these two were, you'd be just as shocked as I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110417248760915599?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110417248760915599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110417248760915599' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110417248760915599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110417248760915599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/office-gossip.html' title='Office Gossip'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110416008912355374</id><published>2004-12-27T06:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-27T07:08:09.123-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't care about what you got</title><content type='html'>Today is the day that everyone shows off the stuff they got for Christmas.  I don't really give a shit what your boyfriend bought you.  Nor do care what anyone else bought your ass for that matter.  I got my own gifts but I don't feel the need to tell everyone about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The new girl with the big tits is really on my nerves.  She asked me the other day how to spell art.  A-R-T.  It was probably the single most dumb thing I may have heard anyone ever say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110416008912355374?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110416008912355374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110416008912355374' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110416008912355374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110416008912355374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/i-dont-care-about-what-you-got.html' title='I don&apos;t care about what you got'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110374684464263096</id><published>2004-12-22T13:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-22T12:20:44.643-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Today is a good day</title><content type='html'>No one has pissed me off, annoyed me or made me want to hit them.  I'm actually in a decent mood.  I know someone will fuck it up before the end of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110374684464263096?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110374684464263096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110374684464263096' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110374684464263096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110374684464263096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/today-is-good-day.html' title='Today is a good day'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110366575099658614</id><published>2004-12-21T13:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-21T13:49:23.623-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Words to live by</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I think my boss thinks he's like a God in this business. I don't know why, but the man loves to pontificate. He likes to say things like "you can be great" and "you're gonna be the next superstar" or "you know you have ADD right?". I've decided to list a bunch of the phrases he uses on a daily basis....that drive me crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You can be great at this."&lt;br /&gt;"We all have ADD."&lt;br /&gt;"Help me help you."&lt;br /&gt;"Don't be a pig."&lt;br /&gt;"Listen to me and you'll be successful."&lt;br /&gt;"You're driving me crazy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He really is a good man.  He's very helpful but I don't think he knows how crazy he makes everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110366575099658614?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110366575099658614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110366575099658614' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110366575099658614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110366575099658614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/words-to-live-by.html' title='Words to live by'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110364316782484824</id><published>2004-12-21T07:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-21T07:32:47.826-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Memo to Accounting</title><content type='html'>Its Christmas and I haven't done any Christmas shopping.  What would help me out is if &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;you would direct deposit my commission check when you say you would.&lt;/span&gt;  We here is sales PAY your salaries.  Get it straight people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110364316782484824?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110364316782484824/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110364316782484824' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110364316782484824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110364316782484824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/memo-to-accounting.html' title='Memo to Accounting'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110348647930214714</id><published>2004-12-19T11:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-19T12:01:19.303-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Party Wrap</title><content type='html'>Okay so thursday night was the big shindig.  It wasn't as bad as I had suspected but I have a feeling it could have been worse.  Some of the things that went on:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boss man put his hands on &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;every&lt;/span&gt; woman he took pics with.  It was rather slimey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SI Girl #1 looked like she was getting f*cked from behind in every pic she's in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jersey guy #2 asked LI Girl #1 to show him her DD/EE Tits.  I think she said no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jersey guy#1 asked LI Girl#1 if her boobs were real.  She did they aren't (big shocker).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LI Girl #2 was bumping and grinding with LI Guy #2 the whole night.  Mind you, LI Guy #2 is married with 2 kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fat Guy and SI Girl #1 doing coke all night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boss man and various others smoking pot all night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jersey guy #1 buying &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;every single 22-25 year old&lt;/span&gt; double shots.  Maybe to take advantage?  Who knows.  What I do know is Jersey guy#1 is married, has a kid and one on the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me, I was on my best behavior.  I tried to mingle with everyone and be nice.  I think it worked.  I don't know if I made any new friends, but hey, at least I didn't get shit-faced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110348647930214714?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110348647930214714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110348647930214714' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110348647930214714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110348647930214714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/party-wrap.html' title='Party Wrap'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110330682907817801</id><published>2004-12-17T10:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-17T10:07:09.080-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It was so much worse</title><content type='html'>So, I made up with the fat guy I've been fighting with.  The party was fun but I'm too tired to post about it today.  I will try to write something up for monday for your reading pleasure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110330682907817801?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110330682907817801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110330682907817801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110330682907817801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110330682907817801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/it-was-so-much-worse.html' title='It was so much worse'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110321701540932456</id><published>2004-12-16T09:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-16T09:10:15.410-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nasty little guy has no idea what he's talking about</title><content type='html'>We did some tutoring today and the nasty little guy has no clue as to what he's doing.  It's rather sad.  Not only that, but he's wearing a chenille sweater today.  Do you know any guys that wear chenille????  I didn't.  Until now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110321701540932456?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110321701540932456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110321701540932456' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110321701540932456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110321701540932456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/nasty-little-guy-has-no-idea-what-hes.html' title='Nasty little guy has no idea what he&apos;s talking about'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110321018354428329</id><published>2004-12-16T07:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-16T07:16:23.546-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tonight is the night</title><content type='html'>The big office holiday party is this evening.  I'm not crazy about the venue, but I'm never one to pass up an open bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news: The chinese girl hasn't been doing too well lately and I think management had a chat with her this morning.  I try to listen to wants going on but I can't seem to get anything out of anyone.  The new girl with the big boobs doesn't really stand a chance here.  Speaking to another co-worker, we both agreed she way too social and not enough business.  I'm anxious to see who is going to hit on her at tonight's party.  I'll have a gossip round-up about it tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110321018354428329?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110321018354428329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110321018354428329' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110321018354428329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110321018354428329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/tonight-is-night.html' title='Tonight is the night'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110315544372256741</id><published>2004-12-15T16:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-15T16:04:03.723-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You're fired</title><content type='html'>The girl I posted about the other day, the one that wore velour sweatsuits to work.....yeah well she got fired today.  Everyone knew it was coming.  She didn't like the job anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110315544372256741?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110315544372256741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110315544372256741' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110315544372256741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110315544372256741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/youre-fired.html' title='You&apos;re fired'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110314307369462257</id><published>2004-12-15T13:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-15T12:37:53.693-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Crazy short guy</title><content type='html'>My boss recently hired this evil looking short guy.  He's ugly, wears glasses and comes to work dressed like he's one of those Con Edison guys.  I try to say as little as possible to him because he creeps me out.  Anyhow, I had the distinct displeasure of riding in the elevator with him this morning on the way up to the office.  It must have been the longest 30 seconds of my life.  He got into the elevator, turned his back to me and just read his paper.  In a way I'm glad cause I didn't have to make useless conversation with him, but it just proved to me that he has no social skills whatsoever.  I don't know how he expects to be successful here with such a lousy attitude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110314307369462257?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110314307369462257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110314307369462257' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110314307369462257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110314307369462257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/crazy-short-guy.html' title='Crazy short guy'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110313252734841267</id><published>2004-12-15T09:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-15T09:42:07.346-08:00</updated><title type='text'>There is nothing worse</title><content type='html'>Than working with people you &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;cannot&lt;/span&gt; stand.  I've really tried to behave myself lately here, but it seems the harder I try, the more I fail.  Fuck them all.  Its just a job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People here take so many days off.  I remember getting into some shit a month or so back with the fat boy and my boss totally reemed me.  The ironic thing is, fat girl #1 has been here all of 4 months (and hasn't been very productive) yet she takes so many days off.  I'm starting to wonder why my boss isn't saying anything to her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Update: the chinese girl has decided not to go toe-to-toe with me and has backed off.  I knoew she would because she's no match for me.  I'd make her cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110313252734841267?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110313252734841267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110313252734841267' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110313252734841267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110313252734841267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/there-is-nothing-worse.html' title='There is nothing worse'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110312123697127435</id><published>2004-12-15T06:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-15T06:33:56.970-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hump day</title><content type='html'>Well it's wednesday and tomorrow is our big office holiday party.  I'm thinking of not going, but I'd like to and see if I could get any pics of these losers to post up here.  I need to try to get a pic of the fat bastard.  I need everyone to see that this man-child is so ridiculous in that he thinks he looks like some svelte guy, when he really doesn't.  I'm also gonna try to get a pic of the nast staten island bitches.  Like, I said I'm still thinking of not going but what fun would I have making fun of them on this site on friday?  It's almost too good not to miss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's too early for these people to really bother me.  I've been trying to keep a low profile in the office and I think some of these germs are avoiding me.  Better for them as they won't feel the rath I have for them on the site.  The Staten Island bitch #1 is royally on my nerves.  She's the one person I'm really not lookig forward to "hanging" out with at the party. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110312123697127435?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110312123697127435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110312123697127435' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110312123697127435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110312123697127435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/hump-day.html' title='Hump day'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110306254519040625</id><published>2004-12-14T14:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-15T06:30:16.746-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jewish people all around me</title><content type='html'>It's not that I don't like Jewish people, I do. What I don't like are pushy, obnoxious loud jews. There are like 5 people like that in my office. I don't understand why Fat Girl #1 is like that. I mean, are you raised that way by your folks? It's not at all inviting. I don't even want to talk to her or say anything. Anyway, being that I work in a Sales business, most of the people here are jewish.  I guess i just don't understand the 'more is less' mentality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110306254519040625?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110306254519040625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110306254519040625' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110306254519040625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110306254519040625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/jewish-people-all-around-me.html' title='Jewish people all around me'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110305462123302314</id><published>2004-12-14T13:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-14T12:10:00.866-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Appropriate Attire Part Two</title><content type='html'>Fat Girl #1 is wearing pink UGGly boots to work today.  Am I the only person that thinks there is something wrong with that???  I mean, Pink UGGly's to work?  I hope she isn't smoking pot on her lunch hour in those things.&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110305462123302314?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110305462123302314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110305462123302314' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110305462123302314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110305462123302314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/appropriate-attire-part-two.html' title='Appropriate Attire Part Two'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110303681197312650</id><published>2004-12-14T06:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-14T07:06:51.973-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Appropriate Attire</title><content type='html'>Being that I work in a mildly casual office, people don't really get all that dressed up.  The chinese girl does, but she's like a size 1.  You can imagine my surprise when one of the new people showed up to work in a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;velour sweatsuit&lt;/span&gt;.  Kinda threw me for a loop.  What's even more surprising is that management doesn't seem to care.  If I came to work wearing that shit, I would get in deep shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110303681197312650?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110303681197312650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110303681197312650' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110303681197312650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110303681197312650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/appropriate-attire.html' title='Appropriate Attire'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110296733728735840</id><published>2004-12-13T11:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-13T11:48:57.286-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Everyone on their best behavior</title><content type='html'>Surprisingly enough, none of these morons are on my nerves today.  I've tried to keep to myself somewhat and not let their idiotic ramblings distract me also. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unrelated: Fat Girl #3 thinks I'm her new bestest friend.  I don't think so babe.  I got enough friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110296733728735840?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110296733728735840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110296733728735840' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110296733728735840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110296733728735840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/everyone-on-their-best-behavior.html' title='Everyone on their best behavior'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110294919383860589</id><published>2004-12-13T06:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-13T06:46:33.836-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mondays</title><content type='html'>Staten Island Bitch #1 is out sick and so are many others.  Boos man not too happy.  Everyone not getting on my nerves just yet.  I give it about 2 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110294919383860589?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110294919383860589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110294919383860589' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110294919383860589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110294919383860589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/mondays.html' title='Mondays'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110270673470295926</id><published>2004-12-10T11:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-10T11:25:34.703-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Staten Island Bitches</title><content type='html'>There are a couple of them in the office.  Why do I dislike them you ask?  Aside from being from a borough that largely consists of landfills, these girls think their shit don't stink.  Well it does.  SI Girl #1 is a one-upper and annoying to listen to. SI Girl#2 bats for the other team and thinks she's 20 years old with some of the shit she wears.  The real gem here is SI Girl #3.  SIG #3 is......a slut.  Slut is actually a mild way to describe her.  She dates consultants and I think may even be fucking the boss (no confirm on that yet).  She tries to act very confident but in the end, she always looks like a jackass.  Fuck all these hos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110270673470295926?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110270673470295926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110270673470295926' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110270673470295926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110270673470295926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/staten-island-bitches.html' title='Staten Island Bitches'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110269832101018115</id><published>2004-12-10T09:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-10T09:05:21.010-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chinese girl again</title><content type='html'>Wow, I mean she's a nasty little twat and thinks she can speak to people any way she wants.  She is definitely getting put into her place today.  The little fucking bitch is 23 years old and barking orders and shit to people.  Not me my friends because I will let her little bitch ass know not to fuck with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110269832101018115?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110269832101018115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110269832101018115' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110269832101018115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110269832101018115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/chinese-girl-again.html' title='Chinese girl again'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110261911614275857</id><published>2004-12-09T11:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-09T11:05:16.143-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The back office</title><content type='html'>The accounting group is not at all that bright.  They fuck up checks and miscalculate shit all the time.  Aren't they getting paid b/c they should know how to do this shit?  I mean, come the fuck on already.  I always knew people in those groups at all companies were scary, but at least they try to do their jobs right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another note: Another stupid girl in my office just said "I called her and left a message but then I hung up."  WTF?  I think this place is like a breeding ground for idiots.  God help them all.  God help me to get thru another 12 hours at this joint until the weekend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110261911614275857?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110261911614275857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110261911614275857' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110261911614275857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110261911614275857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/back-office.html' title='The back office'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110261258935209225</id><published>2004-12-09T09:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-09T09:16:29.353-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hirings and Firings</title><content type='html'>New hire girl with HUGE boobs.  Very young and looks like she's had implants in both boobies and lips.  Kinda girl you'd like to get a hummer from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're fired!  Older fat guy that thought he knew everything.  Had the distinct displeasure of sitting near him for a while.  Not so sad he's gone.  Must suck to get fired during the holidays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110261258935209225?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110261258935209225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110261258935209225' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110261258935209225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110261258935209225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/hirings-and-firings.html' title='Hirings and Firings'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110260325469607366</id><published>2004-12-09T06:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-09T06:40:54.696-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fat boy still wearing tight clothes</title><content type='html'>Message to JSV: STOP.  you look like a fucking idiot with your big head and body and tight clothes.  Get a Weight Watchers meal fucker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110260325469607366?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110260325469607366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110260325469607366' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110260325469607366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110260325469607366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/fat-boy-still-wearing-tight-clothes.html' title='Fat boy still wearing tight clothes'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110253286891552583</id><published>2004-12-08T11:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-08T11:07:48.916-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This takes the cake</title><content type='html'>The computer person-woman here at this lousy office is a minimum of 300 lbs.  Everyone dresses somewhat corp casual.  Not this woman.  She wears sweatpants and sneakers.  Maybe if she'd put the fucking donuts down, she could lose weight.  She also makes enough money to get that stomach surgery and I have no idea why she doesn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110253286891552583?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110253286891552583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110253286891552583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110253286891552583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110253286891552583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/this-takes-cake.html' title='This takes the cake'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110252596709551974</id><published>2004-12-08T08:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-08T09:12:47.096-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The fat boy</title><content type='html'>The #1 fat boy in my office wears clothes that are way too tight on his body.  He really should go on Queer Eye for the Fat Guy and get a makeover.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110252596709551974?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110252596709551974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110252596709551974' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110252596709551974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110252596709551974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/fat-boy.html' title='The fat boy'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110251995834649761</id><published>2004-12-08T07:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-08T07:32:38.346-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My boss</title><content type='html'>Is a tired ass old guy who is in love with one of the other bitches in the office.  I'm so sick of him telling everyone to "listen up" and "pay attention".  Do yourself a favor dude, shave your silly goatee and hire a hooker and get laid.  You'll probably feel a lot better about the fact you have a small penis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110251995834649761?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110251995834649761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110251995834649761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110251995834649761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110251995834649761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/my-boss.html' title='My boss'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9520442.post-110251851124486408</id><published>2004-12-08T07:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-08T07:09:14.116-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Chinese Girl</title><content type='html'>Thinks she's cute, but she isn't. She has a nasty Brooklyn accent and way too much energy. Hopefully she'll take a hint and shut the fuck up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9520442-110251851124486408?l=peopleatwork.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/feeds/110251851124486408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9520442&amp;postID=110251851124486408' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110251851124486408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9520442/posts/default/110251851124486408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peopleatwork.blogspot.com/2004/12/chinese-girl.html' title='The Chinese Girl'/><author><name>The Worker</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11079566027245633528</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
