If There Weren’t So Many Miles Between Us...

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I would walk over to your cubical, take your phone cord, and tie you to your chair where you sit! It would take the rest of the day, and a call to the maintenance guy to get you out. And why you ask? Because smacking your gum in my ear while on the phone with me, makes everything completely irritatingly so hard to focus on. After about your sixth sentence smacking every single word at me while ending each sentence with a gum pop, I asked you to stop. I appreciate your attempt to apologize, but you put me on fucking hold with no hold button. I don’t know what kind of mute operation comes with your phone but I can still fucking hear you. The urge of strangulation has never been so fierce inside my body before. Smacking and popping, smacking and popping, stop fucking doing that. I don’t know if all you did was put your headset down, but at one point I could hear you finger drum your desk while popping your gum, meanwhile your supposed to be finding me the report I need.

All I ask for is a little quiet time if you need to take a minute. While you’re doing your thing, I should be able to continue to work my things. I shouldn’t be raped of my concentration and forced-fed to listen to your hack rendition of What Does The Fox Say via Hubba Bubba.

I subsequently want to apply Gold Bond to your testicles in an attempt to create the feeling of 1000 peppermint fairies dancing on your balls right now.
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Happy New Years

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