hella boring
You know when people tell you that smoking marijuana kills brain cells? Well, it’s not true. Lest some of you start pulling out bogus reports and assaulting me with false assertions I really don’t care about, let me assure, if it does indeed destroy brain cells, it certainly is not better at this than my super boring job.
Now, that’s the demise of my brain right there. My job bores me to an extent that I cannot possibly describe with words…or hand gestures. Well, maybe there’s one hand sign I’ve always felt the urge to show my boss. Then again, to fully convey my feelings about this god forsaken office, I’d probably have to devise a prop to maintain a certain finger erected for eight hours while I walk around pretending to care about boring meeting minutes. Anyway, constructing such a machine it’s probably boring too.
The only thing that may stall the downfall of my brain power is making fun of my boss. Coming up with clever and witty posts about his shortcomings takes serious dedication. And so it goes:
my boss is an idiot =Â anal warts for me but more fun for you readers (all two of you)
