Notes From My Department Meeting, 8.23.05
One of the new girls wears a lot of pink and leopard prints. I can't imagine how the look helped her find a mate, but she's married. It just goes to show you that there's a really desperate guy born every minute.
Youn-Joo doesn't say much, but I bet that behind that mousy, silent, dead-eyed stare is the kind of personality that could kidnap and torture American businessmen as some kind of karmic retribution.
If I were older, I would address Tony as "La Bamba." I mean, he's even got the sleeves of his polo shirt rolled up into little cuffs.
Joyce went to the beauty parlor (not the salon) and got her hair done. Now she just looks perpetually surprised.
If I dipped Skoal or owned a 12-gauge, I'd probably ask Amanda for her number.
One of the managers looked at me and gestured with his hands for me to keep my voice down. I stood up, took off my belt and looked him in the eye. "Do something," I said. "Do something."
If George Foreman were old, white, and female, he'd look just like Rose. That woman's got upper arms like she plays for the mighty Bengals of Cincinnati.
The company is excited about tomorrow's meeting because they're unrolling a mission statement that's been in the works for like 5 years. This is easily the most time ever spent on a sentence that all employees will be forced to memorize but that no one will care about.
Sometimes I think I look like a grizzly bear in a Gap shirt. The fact that I like to scratch my back against vertical edges probably doesn't do anything to discourage this image.
We play 3 Truths to end the meeting. It's like 2 Truths and a Lie, from camp or something, except it's actually 3 Truths. So retarded.
