Female Boss Shorts 9

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

Scenario #1: The Gardener has gone back to Mehico, or wherever Jews are from (see Scenario #2), for a one month. Since Female Boss is very dependent on his services she is becoming quite stressed out. I'll take another second to remind you that the property is tiny which puts Female Boss' overwhelming feeling of distress into prespecteev.

Lemme break it down for you. Female Boss' stress amounts to this quite literally: weeding a couple flower beds and mowing the lawn.. once at the very most for each job. Now that we are in a clear understanding for DefCon 4, Female Boss takes the necessary precautions. She heads to the local hardware store and comes back equipped for her month long standoff with the yard.

Female Boss' purchases include: a new spade, bcuz according to her the other one she bought last year "doesn't work right," whatever that means.. Next, a 50 count box of 33 gallon black garbage bags.. 33 gallon.. 50 of em.. 50. A pick axe to "turn up the soil even tho 98% of the property is lawn. Grass shears, in case the lawn mower "slows her down." Lastly, a new pair of gardening gloves for, and I swear to you this is what she said, "to combat her allergies." Wow..

Scenario #2: With Turkey Day looming back at the time this tale was in the making, I can't help but be reminded of another one of Male Boss' finest moments that you will find here (First Scenario). What sparked this thought? Female Boss is rambling on and on about Thanksgiving for some reason. Somewhere along the lines of her nonsensical string of half-thoughts and burps, she starts complaining about Turkey Day of all things! Lay off the feasting of tasty bird for crying out loud! Whore.

"I don't want to go to my family's! There always ends up being a fight. Then, my brother will make jokes about my pets and that they are a part of my "zoo" and worse yet, I am the zoo keeper!"

...

"I can't take it! I can't take it! I don't want to go!"

Yeah? Well what the fuck do you want me to do? Just shut up already..

As I keep my mouth shut, Female Boss doesn't drop more gems like I had hoped for. Instead her train of thought changes, as is the way of a brain lacking that ever so vital oxygen supply. Basically she starts talking about her plans for the weekend. Involving going to her family's house.. christ. Glad you spent the last 15 minutes bitching about it only to rejoice in the fact that you are still gonna go. Female Boss switches topics yet again to dig deep and pull out some Nostradamus-like foresight.

"I think a lot of ppl are gonna be cooking for Thanksgiving this year."

No shit? Wait a second, no way! People cooking for Thanksgiving.. that's just dumb. We all go out to dinner at Bunboy like her family I am guessing?

Mistakes of the Past 2

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

Yesterday left you with a classic Male Boss scenario. His arrogance has proven to get the best of him and his comeuppence draws nigh. When we came into work after the weekend neither of us were prepared for what greeted us.

That Monday morning the investment property was a complete disaster. The house was slathered from the windows to the wall in a fine slick of dog shit. It was as if a kindergarten class came over and had a finger painting party. I follow close behind Male Boss, the second the dogs see me they charge me happily to say hello. I stomped my foot as hard as I could and told them to back the fuck up.

Of course they are too stupid to understand my disgust in them but Lord knows their paws are carrying a cocktail of bacteria in the form of dry, caked on shit accented with the fresh wet shit from that very morning. No thanks, assholes. Male Boss was petrified, I really don't think he could believe his own eyes. He stood there, the dogs bounced to and fro off of him mucking up the front and back of his jeans. He does nothing at first, then expresses how furious he is with himself.

"I fucked up, Northe. I really fucked this up this time. I didn't think and I fucked the shit up."

I gave him the ol' grin followed up by an, "I told you so."

Male Boss didn't even acknowledge me. He started gathering all the stacks of napkins from his various fast food trips he could find. I tip toed thru the mine field in the kitchen, grabbed the roll of paper towels and tossed it to him. Knowing that it wouldn't be enuff to do the job, I gave him a heads up.

"Hey, Male Boss, I'm gonna head to the store and grab you a 3 pack of paper towels."

I needed to get the hell outta there. I spent a good hour away from work and came back to spy a beautiful scene unfold. The door was slightly ajar when I came back, a black plastic trash bag with the ends tied in a knot lay at the front step. Knowing what it was full of, I nudged it aside and slowly poked my head into the house.

There it was, Male Boss down on his hands and knees. He fashioned knee pads out of napkins that didn't do as good a job as he had hoped. With one napkin in hand, Male Boss was picking at wads of doo. Every now and then he would do the swirly scoop smear that would only make it harder to come clean. All the while the dogs are playing in circles around him and putting their faces right in his.

After a few seconds of watching, Male Boss reaches his breaking point. With poo clasped in napkined hand, he goes from dog to dog shaking the it and shoving it in their faces, "Huh? You wanna smell it!"

Male Boss' eyes are wide and look almost bloodshot. His hair is all frazzled and he breathes only thru his mouth making him sound much more hilarious than usual, "You wanna smell your own shit!?"

He lunges at them angrily and sadly enuff the dogs are so confused with the situation they keep coming back to him wondering what exactly is in his hand and if he's offering it up to them. This is only pissing Male Boss off more so, "Get the fuck outta here!"

They come back for more. The One gets a little too close and faces the wrath, "You want to taste it you son of a bitch!? Huh? Taste it!"

Male Boss shoves the open faced napkin into The One's snout, "Fucking taste it! You like it you mother fucking ass!?"

I am just standing in the doorway, holding back the tears of laughter as best I can. After Male Boss had lashed out at the pups, Male Boss' demeanor changes. Maybe he felt bad, I don't know. His speech and behavior were as indecipherable as his usual speech.

"That's it. You're all just dogs. All of you, just fucking dogs. That's it."

Mistakes of the Past

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

During the time this story was going on Female Boss was taking more vacations than a popular politician. Over a two month period she was gone for 24 work days. Upon her latest return, a Wednesday, she told Male Boss that she was going to leave again for the weekend. In Female Boss speak "for the weekend" meant that she would be leaving early today and we weren't likely to see her until Tuesday. Within her pep talk about the joys of travel Female Boss decided to drop a bombshell on Male Boss.. it would be another go at Female Boss handing the reigns over to Male Boss in regards to taking care of the pups.

Male Boss began with his usual protesting. Female Boss was not trying to hear a thing. Male Boss even brought up the fact that in the past he has been a terrible failure and how he resents having to take care of "those fucking dogs." Female Boss starts up on the "I am under so much stress" speech and wins the argument. It doesn't shock me one bit that Male Boss doesn't have the mental dexterity to bring up the fact that she has taken tons of vacation time lately. Instead, Male Boss folds up like a whimpering bitch and Female Boss rightfully wins the debate.

Thursday morning Male Boss comes into the office with all the dogs. He walks into the office with all the dogs with harnessed and leashed up and a face full of shame. I start laughing at him, Male Boss' head sinks to the floor, "Oh you think this is funny? Look at me, Northe!"

I continue to laugh and shake my head at him. To my delight the mocking inspires Male Boss. It is he that will have the last laugh.

"Fuck it, Northe. You know what I am going to do? Leaving the fucking dogs right here! Right fucking here!"

Rough translation means that he is not going to take the dogs back home with him. He wants to just leave em here at the investment property essentially relinquishing him from all responsibility..

I toss him a logical question, "Are you going to come back and feed them and give them water over the weekend?"

I am met with the answer from my wildest dreams, "Hell no! Fuck these fucking dogs! Going to put out the bowls of food and water and thats it."

"What about their shit?" I ask.

Male Boss believes that it is in his best interest to let all the shit pile up and clean it up in one fell swoop on Monday. I remind him of his folly of the past, that worse things can potentially happen. Male Boss laughs in the face of death by not taking heed to my words and blows off my warnings without hesitation.

Sidebar: Gonna have to break this into two stories. I have been slacking on finishing up a bunch of different stories here so if I get something out it will motivate me to finish this up tonight when I get home. Tomorrow's update will conclude the story.

We Have A Visitor

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

Imagine the joy in my heart when I found out that Padre was sending over a friend from overseas, another priest so you know, to stay at the investment property for a couple of days. This was a brand new shot at someone else's personal Vietnam to take place here at the office. The smile on my face was not like one of those jovial kid in the candy store type deals, its more like the sinister smile of a sniper before he squeezes off a kill thats been a long time coming.

Rejuvenated with the news, I asked when this would be. The victim was gonna be here on Thursday and then stay the weekend, most of his time would obviously be at the investment property alone but it gave me two days of some great potential. Not the best case scenario but good enuff. The week before fell off the calendar and arrival time came.

He was a portly gent, not very nice and seemed to me that the good Lord blessed him with an extremely severe case of gum disease that stopped me from even shaking his hand. It was frikkin disgusting. It looked like it hurt to smile.. it was like a coked out angel stole God's product and hammered pieces of chipped teeth into his gums. Apparently no one showed this idiot what a toothbrush or floss was in his 60+ years on this here Earth to boot. According to my calculations the only thing that can save this guy's mouth at this point would be some sort of chisel set and enuff porcelain to construct a bidet. Then maybe pickup a set of donated horse gums to replace the red, irritated and decaying human set he has. Even then, you'd still have to tackle the halitosis problem.

As one can deduce, his overwhelming repugnance set off the 21 gun salute welcome that the dogs give off to any and all guests of honor at the investment property. Lucky for this jackass, they were all present and about as loud as you can possibly imagine. Before long his ears were ringing to the point where he can no longer hear a lot of the frequencies he once enjoyed. Good enuff, as the only person worth speaking to in the office wasn't going to be saying anything to him anyway.. so you know, that person would be me.

The best part about the whole thing is that Female Boss is doing her usual song and dance about how this is so uncharacteristic of the dogs followed by her making shushing sounds that are all but drowned out completely in the noise. Female Boss takes GumDisease to the back room and shows him where he will be staying, silence takes the room back, not a peep from the dogs. When she comes back in with GumDisease, it starts all over again as if these were GumDisease's initial seconds of entry.

The tour continues to the office, where I am now seated. Demonseed's cage is in the room with me as well. As soon as Demonseed sees GumDisease she starts going completely ballistic. She couldn't quite see GumDisease when he walked in so she had only been flying back and forth across her cage trying to sneak a peak. Now that she has seen the infiltrator she greets him like only Demonseed can. Her screeching is insane. I'm talking painful. Its like a very fine laser beam passing right thru your brain over and over again. The good news is through many hours of training I am able to find it hysterical bcuz the chaos only makes for a more interesting story for Angry Time.

Female Boss is starting to fidget and bob and weave. She knows she looks like an idiot and GumDisease is really getting pissy. GumDisease puts his hands on top of his head and leaves them there.

"Good heavens that bird!" yelps GumDisease.

"Oh, nooo. She's a good bird. Right, Northe?" pleads Female Boss.

The beauty of stupid questions and ambient noise is that you can pretend that you never heard them.

"Yeah, see she's a good bird," says Female Boss to Demonseed as she clutches the side of the cage with her talons screaming right in her face.

"Quiet!" screams Female Boss back at the bird.

Even though it was probably the loudest I have ever heard her scream its as if she was whispering. The sound is becoming deafening, GumDisease is in complete shock staring at her with his hands still on his head wondering what the hell Jesus would do.. I am guessing. Unfortunately, GumDisease doesn't have the answer in any handbook and stands frozen, mouth wide open and the blood rushing to his head.

So Female Boss starts up something new, "La la la la la."

Female Boss' singing seems to be working. Slowly, the dogs cease their barking one by one after some time. Demonseed is down to a mere caw and all is becoming right in the world again. Still nervous with hand shaking from the embarrassment, Female Boss turns around to face GumDisease.

She sees how completely appalled GumDisease is. Trying to lighten the mood, Female Boss jokingly says, "I take it you are dying to hold the bird."

GumDisease is not amused, "That bird is not my responsibility."

His stare is about as cold as a witch's teet. There is no sarcasm. There is no joy. There is no light in his eye, only despair. In the first 15 minutes of being here, GumDisease has already outlived his stay. He did not spend the night at the investment property. He did not even stay a couple hours. In fact, Female Boss told me the next day that he never unpacked his things and left to a local motel in a cab about 30 minutes after I left. GumDisease was such a pissed off customer that when Female Boss insisted that she drive him to the motel he wouldn't even accept it. Phenomenal.

Quality Time With Male Boss

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

It was getting toward the end of a long day. Female Boss and Male Boss are in their typical cerebral bitchfest complaining about this, that and the other. I make sure to immerse myself in some kind of radio topic drowning out their pathetic sparring session. For once, I am pretty upset I was doing my best not to pay attention bcuz Male Boss and I shared a moment not much later.

Still completely into my sports radio talk, I can hear the dyspeptic rumble of idiocy dying down. Female Boss leaves in a shitty mood, as usual. I still have another 20 minutes left on the clock before I can escape my temporary damnation cuz Male Boss is still floating around somewhere in the kitchen. If he'd just leave I'd leave a minute or two later and all is right in the world again.

Instead, Male Boss comes in with two tumblers with a bit of scotch in each.

"This one's on me, Northe."

I take my glass and raise it to him. We sip a bit in silence and he starts up the conversation, "You and me. We got lucky, Northe."

After a bit of silent and another swig of scotch I ask him, "Why's that?"

"God didn't make us born the womens."

We share a laugh, raise our glasses again and take our last sips.

"Female Boss is one fucked up broad."

I can't argue so I swirl a bit and take down my last drop.

Male Boss gets up and instructs me that its time to go home. He turns off the lights in the office and closes up shop for the evening. I take his glass and take em to the kitchen to rinse em out.

"We got some fucking luck, right?" asks Male Boss.

I look up from the sink ringing my hands of the water on em, "I suppose we do."

As we leave the investment property and he locks up the door behind us he leaves me with this, "Yes my friend, we got some fucking luck.. not to be that shit."

Here's to not being that shit, friends.

Dunkirt Revisited

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

Re-read me. At minimum, re-familiarize yourself. Things haven't been getting any better. Dunkirt's new friends are now known as "The Flies That Go Thru and In" in many friendly circles to Angry Time now and said flies continue to make sweet love within the anal cavity of this frikkin pig. It hasn't just stayed the same either, its getting worse.

Day by day, I have noticed the increasing swarm of flies around this fat fuck. Useless lump that he is, Dunkirt just lays there enjoying the delicate tickle that the flies offer him. Female Boss is beside herself bcuz every day Male Boss makes a comment about the disgusting situation. Its become so bad that if Dunkirt is laying there and you walk by him a fleet of flies leap up from all over the place.. its insane. So Female Boss has come up with a few solutions, if they will work only time will tell.

Her first idea was to buy this crap. Its this thick, opaque salve that I pray she isn't rubbing "thru and in" on ye ol' pig but I can't confirm. However, at first I didn't know that this crap was a salve. I just saw the container. All I know is when Female Boss brought it to work she opened it and just placed it where the pig spends most of its time sideways and conjuring up more stink. For a couple days there, I didn't notice the pig being swarmed. I figured maybe the crap worked like one of those insect candles or some such. Turns out I was wrong.

After that weekend, the lid was still off the Flys-Off and the flies were back to continue their expedition of going thru and in. During the course of the week it became so bad that Dunkirt was found trying to snap at the flies and even squealing in frustration. Perhaps his nether regions have grown raw and sensitive.. mmm, good visual. Male Boss didn't give a fuck anymore, his comments had now ceased but Female Boss was determined to stop the infestation.

Her next tactic was to "tent" the sleeping quarters of Dunkirt. Female Boss is making Dunkirt sleep within his makeshift tent and continuing to place the salve right next to it. I think its working better as there aren't near as many flies but there are flies still about. The more disturbing part of this tale is the final and most desperate measure, I believe, Female Boss has taken.

The other morning I noticed finger dents and smearsmear marks within the jar of salve. Taken aback by this, I peered down to read the directions. Turns out you want to rub the crap within wounds and shit like that. Thing is, Dunkirt doesn't have any wounds but according to Male Boss he has an orifice that doubles as a condo. I hate to take your minds down that path but I gotta tell ya it may be true. I don't know for sure tho. I just hope that Female Boss isn't that crazy to apply cream upon, within and around the thru and in entrance for the flies.

Boss Warfare 7

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

Scenario #1: Male Boss is shockingly in the sitting room doing nothing at all. Female Boss and I are in the office area. I can only vouch for myself when I say "we" are working. Chances are Female Boss is trying to figure out how to open a file on her computer.. something she forgets fairly often how to do.

Once Female Boss' brain hiccups her back to a somewhat functional human being she notices Puppy is with Male Boss on the couch.

"What are you doing, Puppy?"

"I'm watching my stories. Leave me the hell alone. I'm with the dog."

Female Boss turns red in the face.

"I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to Puppy, you idiot!"

"If I'm the idiot you tell me what Puppy says."

Female Boss is silent, what can she say?

"You see? You see how dumb you are? Asks the dog the question and mad on me for answering. You wouldn't hear shit! The dogs don't talk, stop asking questions and stop wasting my stories!"

Scenario #2: Female Boss is on the line with her brother. Its the usual crap they talk about.. summed up in a word - nothing. They don't talk about shit important. They don't talk about events, music, movies, shows.. anything. Usually she just asks if he received an in-mail or something or why he didn't reply or who should she forward the in-mail to, or if he forwarded it to anyone. Drives me fuckin nuts.

So while Female Boss is on the line with him, Male Boss is in the kitchen with The One. He is making a bit of a racket which usually means that he is looking for a treat to give The One. Female Boss realizes this. She made it fairly clear that she didn't want The One getting any treats during the day anymore cuz when she takes him home he doesn't eat dinner. Rather than reiterating this to Male Boss she goes a different route.

"Male Boss, can you bring The One in here for me?"

Male Boss doesn't answer. Female Boss repeats herself. Still no answer.

As Male Boss is turning the corner with The One in his arms, Female Boss is beginning her whining to her brother, "Sorry Brother, but I apparently am not allowed to talk on the phone right now. I am so sorry, Male Boss says that I can't talk on the phone. Uh huh, yeah, I am so sorry, nothing is important but doing work here so I have to go now."

Female Boss hangs up the phone.

Male Boss gets angry, "Why the fuck you tell him like that? What the fuck? What the fuck you doing?"

"You can't do a simple thing that I ask of you," she yells at him.

"What the fuck? You blinded? I have the fucking dog here. Fucking take him. Stupid, stupid. Fuck! Don't do that again. You fucking lie on me to your brother. I don't like that shit!"

"Then do what I ask and I won't."

"Fucking crazy woman! I bring you the dog! Its here! You have it! Don't lie on me again! EVER!"

Its maddening. I don't know where Female Boss gets off doing shit like that. I don't know what her deal is. She's simply insane and poor Male Boss has to deal with her wrath. I wouldn't know what to do if she ever tried pulling shit like that on me.

"It looka like a man."

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

We've all seen that sketch that got old after the first 25 seconds on Mad TV haven't we? Oh well, who cares. Its really not that important. However, it does shed some light on how brazenly stupid Male Boss remains. There is no need for me to re-link you guys the myriad of stories about how Male Boss is all but hopeless when it comes to computers so you're gonna have to go back and refresh yourself with terms like "in-mail" on your own time.

A while back I showed Male Boss how to set up some basic computer bullshit. He asked a bunch of stupid questions while I was doing it and then would repeat aloud what I was doing. For example, taking a cord and plugging it into the back of the computer he would say, "Yeah, go ahead and take that and plug it right there," while I'm doing it! Pretty fuckin annoying, lemme tell ya. I tried to teach him anything but Male Boss is the type of guy that doesn't have the patience to learn anything new and once sees it, thinks he is a know-it-all. I could really care less, its when he bugs me on the weekend to try and figure out shit that I couldn't decipher to save my family.

I remember getting a voicemail over this one weekend. It was Male Boss, calling from his cell phone from a friend's house. They were trying to set up the guy's new computer. Somehow, they got the computer up and running but when it came to the peripherals they started coming across snags. The voicemail was half in english and the other half in the beautiful, angry barks that is his native language.

What stuck out most in my mind is, "We have the cable with the man on it. We want to know where it needs to be plugged. Looks like a man, I don't know. Where do we put?"

Next voicemail message was him again, Male Boss kept repeating himself, the same shit, while talking to the guy that was with him. Both messages were a good 2 minutes. I had no clue what the poor guy was talking about at all. After shaving another 2 hours off the clock in the hopes that he would no longer be at his friend's house I called him back. Thankfully he didn't answer his cell so I just left him a message that I'll see if I can figure it out come Monday.

On Monday, he presented me with the problem. He drew a sketch of a stick figure. I asked him what it was. Male Boss insisted it was the symbol on the cord and they had no clue what it meant.

"What means that? Looks like the man, right?"

I affirmed that yes, that drawing does look like a man but I have never seen anything like that before on a computer part. After a few frustrating minutes Male Boss calls his friend up. Thank god the fucker spoke good english. He told me that it was his printer. They had the old-school fatty cable that his computer didn't have and then there was the second cable to connect to the computer.

"The USB cable?" I asked.

The guy had no clue what I meant, so I put him on hold. I went to our printer and pulled out the USB cable.

"Is this what it looks like?" I asked Male Boss.

"Yeah, pretty thin like that."

"Has to be the USB cable then," I told him.

"What about the man then?" he asked me.

Having no fucking clue what he was talking about I gave the cable a closer inspection. No fuckin way. This couldn't possibly be. I lifted the end of the cable to Male Boss' eye level, "This it?"

"Yes! That's the man! What's fucking means that!?"

"That is USB symbol, Male Boss. Its not a man."

You know what it looks like? Here take a look. Rotate it in your head so that the circle is at the top.. I guess thats the head. Just like a man right? Fuckin unreal. Rather than the conversation ending with Male Boss' strangulation with a USB cable it ended with..

"To me looks like a man. That's the older people thinks. You see, you are young so you know. To me, looks like a man. Its a fucking man."

Dunkirt vs. The Professional

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

Go ahead and take some time to refresh yourself on what Dunkirt once was. The world was once this pig's oyster, he had it all. He was entertaining, energetic and most of all a pleasure to be around. Now that you remember young Dunkirt, lets continue to delve into what has become of this land cow.

The reason I link to you that particular post is to demonstrate that how some things at one stage in life are cute and how the exact same thing can eventually become just plain fuckin annoying. Over the months, Dunkirt's brain soaked in everything like a sponge. Female Boss rightfully was recognized as the general caretaker. I became, "morning banana peel guy" as I would give Dunkirt the pleasure of eating what I consider a portion of my daily waste, and The Professional became "the tag guy" to Mr. Kirt.

One thing was for sure, nothing made Dunkirt happier than seeing The Professional. If Dunkirt was in the right mood, as a burgeoning young adult pig, he would squeal and charge The Professional with wanton disregard. The poor guy was only hoping that The Professional would stick around and play tag with him. The problem is that as Dunkirt aged and grew the act went from playful tyke to a battering ram ripe to cause internal bleeding. This upset The Professional very much. Often he would scold Dunkirt when coming into the house or use his briefcase as a makeshift shield to fend off his foe. The Professional would act up the most if Female Boss wasn't around. He would curse at Dunkirt and scare him off. This turns out to be a bad move.

Now that Dunkirt is hulking house of flies, he has learned to hate his one time Huckleberry Friend. Nowadays, whenever The Professional comes to the house, it turns into a dangerous game of cat and mouse. The last time The Professional was at all amicable with Dunkirt he paid for it dearly. The way he tells the story is he was getting out of his car and Dunkirt was in the front putting around, per the norm. As The Professional approached the house Dunkirt slowly made his way over toward The Professional and as he turned his back on the pig, Dunkirt smashed his forehead into the side of his leg.

Needless to say The Professional came in ranting and screaming about "that fucking pig." To no one's surprise, Female Boss stepped in to her oblivious role of pet owner and refused to believe it was anything malicious or even something to be concerned about. Where have we seen this behavior before? Hmm..

So now, The Professional avoids Dunkirt at all costs. On weekday mornings I can look out the window and seeing him dodge from left to right and even leaping as he crosses the path of Dunkirt to get around him. When Dunkirt is blocking the front door, he'll use the side door. Anything to get away from him. When asked why he doesn't come in the front door by Female Boss, The Professional replies, "Tell me when you want to turn that pig into sausage and I will come in through the front door when that fucking guy is in my way."

I put my money on The Professional in anticipation of a good meal.

Female Boss Shorts 8

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

After taking my summer break from Angry Time and starting to write up this duo of tales I had forgotten that I created a series of Female Boss Shorts.. then to find out that I am now on #8 for this series I am at the crossroads of whether or not that the number is becoming impressive or if I am way behind on schedule. This pair of stories are just as good as any. They continue to document that stupidity knows no bounds. Have at 'em.

Scenario #1: Female Boss is doing her best to fumble around on the internets. She comes across some website that sells shoes. I keep hearing her comment, "Oh that's cute. That one's cute. Oh wow, I love those."

The high pitched impressed tone she emits is starting to wear down my ability to ignore her for extended periods of time.. that and the fact that I really can't stand it when people talk out loud about shit that you can't see or don't care to see. Figuring I'd rather just get it over with now I ask, "What is it?"

"Oh! These shoes! They are SO CUTE," squeals Female Boss.

"You gonna buy em?"

"Absolutely, I just don't know how many pairs."

"Sounds good."

A couple quiet minutes later, disappointment has taken over Female Boss' annoyingly pleased mood. "Aww, Northe. These are baby shoes!"

I didn't even know what to say to that. Instead of having to come up with a stealthily demeaning yet witty comment, Female Boss takes it all one further.

"Well wait hold on a sec, let me check the sizes. Oh! Great. These are size 8B. I am size 8! I'm gonna order a pair and hope they fit."

Baby sized shoes. Its gotta be the same thing. I mean that "B" after the number couldn't possibly be some sort of sizing method especially for baby. No way. Female Boss scored some new shoes.... sigh..

Scenario #2: Female Boss has been having problems with the gardener she hired to tend to this investment property lately. Nothing new really. She is always dissatisfied about something the poor old guy is doing. There's really not much that has to be done to such a small property but rather than communicate what she wants done she tends to just air it out to me in hopes that the gardener will pick up her vibes thru ESP. Female Boss almost never tells the gardener what specifically she wants or what is bothering her about the job he does; therefore, nothing ever goes the way she wants leaving us with a perpetual complaint machine.

A few weeks back, the gardener starting bringing along his younger brother.. and by younger I mean about 45. I have spoken to these guys on occasion if I come to the house when they are outside and just say whats up. They speak Spanish and a good amount of English, too.

This is relevant bcuz Female Boss started on a rant the other day, "That stupid brother of his. I know he speaks English! I have seen him speak it to his brother! Then when I talk to him he stares at me like he has no clue what I am saying!"

Female Boss is pretty pissed so I laugh a bit to keep her going. She does.

"I mean come on.. these guys know English! They aren't even Mexican!"

This takes me by surprise bcuz I am pretty sure they are. You also have to understand that "Mexican" doesn't necessarily mean from Mexico out here. Just means they are likely from Central America, only in gardening terms do you hear the word Mexican tossed around rather than some other PC way to describe hispanic or what have you.

I question Female Boss, "Are you sure they aren't Mexican?"

"No! They're not Mexican. They're Jewish!"

I wanted to ask her what country that made them from but decided, instead, to say a prayer for the brain cells I lost in that skirmish and call it a day.

From Bad Taste to Worse

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

Seems to me that prolonged exposure to The Plastics has had some side effects on Female Boss I could have never imagined. Aside from the usual "your self-worth is defined by what you own" syndrome, it turns out that you can pick up on interests that are so bizarre that Male Boss won't even try to string together an incomprehensible sentence in attempts to criticize it. Really.. its crazy. So what is this new thing?

Well, let's see, I came in one Monday morning to see two brand new paintings hanging up in the investment property. The first I had the pleasure of being greeted by as I opened the door.. staring back at me on the wall facing the door was a nude painting of a woman. Nine times out of ten I would imagine this could be a pleasant surprise but my problem with the painting is that it wasn't very good. Odd colors, not a great rendition of a person and just a weird, lifeless pose. As fucked in the head that I am due to my exposure to intense gamma rays of dumbnity I still haven't grown that passion for necrophilia that this painting suggests it would have wanted. Feeling a bit disturbed, I did not tarry and took a few paces thru the hallway and stumbled upon the second. Over the television in the sitting room hung another nude painting. I am not sure if it is the same artist or not, I just knew that this one gave me the same sinking feeling.

When Female Boss came in she was beaming that afternoon I knew that she was going to make mention of the stupid paintings. I had to come up with something to answer her self-serving questions with. She entered the office and predictably the question came, "So, did you see the new paintings?"

Just from the sound of her voice I knew Female Boss was wearing one of those perked up looks on her face. That ear to ear grin that cries out for me to smack down to a self-loathing and pathetic stare yearning for my acceptance.. and I'll have you know that my research has shown that there's no better way to answer a potential conversation starting question with the obvious answer followed by nothing at all.. especially if you'd find that conversation about as interesting as taste testing urine samples at a hospital. Adding a dramatic effect, I pause for about three seconds before answering Female Boss' question.

My answer is simple and emotionless, "Yeah."

I can all but feel the change in the air flow of the room being sucked into her lungs begging for me to comment further. I don't. I know she is leaning in at me waiting for something more. Instead, I keep my back to her as I type away shunning her to the best of my ability. I can feel her eyes fixed on me but I do not crack. All that can be heard in the room is my keyboard clicking for a good while until she gives up and goes back to work.

As the days go by and I become accustomed to the paintings welcoming me when I come in. What's odd is that Male Boss is yet to comment at all. Female Boss had thrown out a few lines to get him to say anything but he has refused to take the bait. I had no clue this was bothering her so much until she kinda lost it. All three of us were in the office and it came outta no where.

"Why won't you tell me what you think of the paintings!?" snapped Female Boss.

I took the opportunity to get outta my seat and do some copies so I had a good view of the discussion but Male Boss ignored her. Female Boss wasn't going to let him off without a fight.

"Answer me!"

Male Boss shook his head and started laughing, "What? What you want me to say? Northe? You tell her."

"Oh, no! You can't bring him into this. Now you gotta tell me."

Male Boss just kept shaking his head and said nothing. Female Boss turned red in anger. The result of this incident weighed on her pretty heavily. Staying true to form as a wannabe Plastic, Female Boss needed outside approval to justify her existence. So apparently, later on that day, she took photos of the paintings and sent them around to her brother. Bad move. One thing about Female Boss' brother is that he is not one to be quiet about certain things. Namely when he doesn't like something he makes it quite clear. Female Boss shared with me his opinion on the, and I quote, "cheap attempt at being artsy" paintings. She read that to me that Thursday.. the next Monday was the show stopper.

I came into work to be greeted by my usual suiters, naked lady A and naked lady B, hi ladies. I went straight to my desk and right to work. Female Boss came in like 10 minutes later.

"Well? Did you see them?"

Thinking that I missed a new one, "What's that?"

Indeed, Female Boss informed me that I had missed a couple in the dining area. Female Boss promptly told me where I could gawk at them. I respectfully declined to act on the suggestion immediately.

"No, but you gotta see 'em!" she urged.

"Hmm, okay.."

Female Boss ushered me to her mini gallery in the dining room, "Well?"

They were different. Something was.. what the hell? The paintings were pierced with actual jewelry.. earrings and a belly button ring. I seriously had nothing to say. The only thing that would escape my mouth at that point would have been obscene and offensive. I buttoned up.

"Pretty cool, huh?"

So rather than actually answering her question I asked my own, "I have never seen paintings pierced with jewelry before. This is a new style?"

Female Boss started cackling it up, "No, silly! I did it!"

I remained clammed up. There's nothing I can do. I am frozen. I have visions of setting her on fire and using her as a torch to burn her pathetic attempts at exploring her "artsy" side. Thankfully, before my boiling point is reached, the soupy mass of brain in her head jumps to conclusions and saves me from really risking my employment by saying something untoward.

"I can't get enuff of that, Northe. I can't believe you think that I am an artist!"

Wait, what? How did that even happen? That giant leap bcuz I thought that her tacky alterations to an already terrible piece of artwork might have been all one original idea shat upon canvas by one colossal moron who thinks that this is somewhat resembling art? Excuse me for not realizing that two clods formed up like Voltron to create the most embarrassing thing I have ever seen hung on a wall!

Oh, and it didn't stop there. Then the phone calls went out to The Plastics. They all went something like this:

"Guess what? Northe thinks I am an artist."

So on and so forth. Think things can't get any more ridiculous? Think again. After making numerous phone calls Female Boss came up with an idea. The following Friday, and after purchasing a fifth painting, Female Boss had each one of her gals propped up around the house and displayed in new frames. They were all pierced.. some even had some glorious nipple piercings. Uh huh. Grand. Not to mention, classy. So why the display? Oh, well wouldn't you put them in brand new frames and placed strategically thru the house if you were going to feature them for an evening of wine and cheese tasting with The Plastics?

Just in case you were wondering. The following Monday I was not greeted by the house whores. As soon as Female Boss arrived at work I started asking 20 questions about the *ahem* art show. At first Female Boss said that everything went fine. Come to find out that everything going "fine" she was only talking about the wine and cheese portion of the affair. After further probing I find out that The Plastics couldn't say enuff negative things about the art and her "artistic" changes. Female Boss was so upset that she took them down and put them in the coat closet right here by the front door. Locked away to this day, I'll have you know.

Truth be told, I can't even fathom what Female Boss was thinking first of all. Maybe she thought that her take on art was going to be the next big craze? All this madness bcuz of something I said? Is she fucking nuts? This whole scenario was insane.. even for Angry Time. Not to mention what a waste of money this whole ordeal had to have been. Its all just so fucking stupid.

"That's the way the pig does."

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

I start writing this particular diddy with my back to a one Demonseed. Perhaps she knows that her day to day antics aren't worth her own stories anymore and in her jealousy of the fact that I am going to write up a tale about Dunkirt, she wants a cameo appearance on Angry Time. To earn this mentionable, Demonseed has her face plunged down thru the grating at the bottom of her cage along with her talons, realizing that they are not very well suited for picking up tiny objects. She reaches ever so vigorously, making a bit of noise but definitely drawing attention to herself. I stood up to see what the hell she was doing... Oh, that's nice. Demonseed is sifting thru her shit and eating something out of it.. she isn't eating it by the clump tho, she is taking the clump from the bottom of the cage, running her beak around it and only taking in select morsels. Pleasant..

On to Dunkirt! With my last post touching on the fact that I can't stand this pig much at all anymore, this one was the first incidents to take place that started to change my opinion of him even tho it is funnier than hell and didn't happen to me. Plain and simple, he isn't the cute little runt of a piglet that used to play tag with The Professional. What makes Dunkirt such an impressive adversary is that he is incredibly cunning. The level of intelligence displayed by this mother fucker makes him one scary son of a bitch. Let's explore.

Remember, Padre? I imagine you do. There are a few stories right around the time frame of 9/07/05 - 9/15/05 there with Padre making a guest appearance if you're interested. He has been in and out of this here place from time to time over the last couple years. His last visit was during the first part of the year. He stayed about 2 weeks again, at the investment property of course, and thankfully brought the good stuff back into the office.

Now, Padre hadn't seen super-sized Dunkirt for quite some time. He was shocked at how large he had become in so short a time. From time to time he would come into the office where I work and shoot the breeze with me about the pig and how much he enjoyed saying good morning to Dunkirt before his morning walk and giving him some food. Whatever makes the guy happy, sounds good to me.

The problem came about towards the end of his stay. The scene is set. Male Boss is laying across the couch in the sitting room watching TV. Padre is forced to sit on the ottoman cuz Male Boss doesn't like to share. Lunch time is approaching and Female Boss is the first to leave to go eat. I decide to wait for her to come back from lunch and I am rewarded.

On her way out the front door, Female Boss didn't shut the front door the entire way. The curious pig that Dunkirt is, he roots around the front door and pushes the thing open. At this point in time, no one knows that Dunkirt is inside the house. Its not that he is some sort of stealth farm animal or anything, its just that the TV is on. Of all things to be watching, Male Boss is watching one of those spanish soap operas.. just so you know.

Looking back this whole scenario took less than a minute, two tops. About 2 minutes after Female Boss leaves the whole ordeal is over. Ordeal? As soon as Dunkirt gets into the house, he sets his senses on Padre. Padre, again sitting on an ottoman, is just minding his own business. Out of no where, I hear Padre yell... well lets be honest here, I hear him scream. I lift off about 4 feet from my chair, Male Boss yells and I hear the grunting and squealing of Dunkirt.

I dart into the sitting room and see Padre in complete terror, shielding his face while still seated, as if someone was gonna throw a baseball at him. Male Boss is on his feet kicking and screaming at Dunkirt to, I quote, "Get the fuck outta here!" Oh and by the way, Padre is now shirtless. That's right. Dunkirt ripped the shirt right off this poor son of a bitch's back. I have no clue what the fuck happened at his point.

Once Dunkirt is subdued, Male Boss comes back into the house.

"Padre, Padre are you okay?"

Padre is very shaken up, he asks Male Boss for some water. Male Boss grabs him some water and hands it over to him. Male Boss starts giggling a little bit trying to lighten the mood and asks Padre, "What the hell happened?"

Padre looks up at him, still shaken up, "I don't know, I don't know what I did!"

"There has to be something," says Male Boss. "I have never seen him so angry before."

Padre starts going on with his usual speech about how much he loves Dunkirt. He talks about him as a piglet, how smart he is and of course how he likes to feed him in the morning before his walk. Male Boss probes further, "Oh? I didn't know you feed him, what have you been giving him in the morning."

Padre answers, "Well along my morning walk I found a lemon tree at one of your neighbor's houses. They said I can take as many as I want. So, I grab a couple each day, one for me and then one for Dunkirt in the morning."

Male Boss interrupts Padre, "Lemons? He hates lemons!"

After some critical thinking we figure out that this entire time Dunkirt has been eating Padre's lemons each morning, he has been secretly bubbling over with incredible rage. Each morning the pig is laying down and Padre leaves it there for him to eat. As Dunkirt is wrestling his immense girth off the ground and on to his tired hooves, Padre is already long gone. Indeed, the pig has been eating the lemons, but each lemon that went down that gullet of his has turned into a time bomb. The one opportunity Dunkirt had, while actually on his feet, he reacted and attacked Padre. I imagine that he could have done much worse than ripping Padre's shirt clean off his back but maybe this was just a message, stop feeding me those fuckin' lemons! After a little while Padre had calmed down a bit, still without a shirt on mind you, and started going over everything in his mind. As he relived the nightmare over and over again he had but one question:

"I just don't understand why he would keep eating them then. Why would he do that?"

Male Boss had a simple and concise answer, "That's the way the pig does. Eat first, act later."

"This is too important!"

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

Apparently before I walked in to work today Male Boss was busy hitting the bottle of Rage-a-hol. He is in no mood for anything, so I just wish him a good morrow and get to crackin' out the crap I gotta get done for the day. Not too long after, Male Boss says he's gonna go visit a client or two and earn a little face time. Female Boss walks in around the same time he is leaving. They don't say too much to each other and all is right in the world of Angry Time.

A couple hours later of nothing exciting to report, Female Boss gets on the line with a Plastic. Just then, the phones start ringing.. of course. There's no other time that they would ring other than when Female Boss is on the phone with her friend, read as: she ain't helping me. So I start doing hold management and whatever I gotta do to get these chair moisteners off the lines.

Of course in the middle of this shit storm, Male Boss starts calling. I answer it, he wants to speak with Female Boss. I put him on hold and inform Female Boss that Male Boss is on the line and get back to the other idiots on the phone.

A good minute falls off the clock and the phones aren't letting up. The next one I answer is Male Boss again.

"Where the fuck is she? What the fuck is going on?"

I tell him that I told her that he was on the line, tell him to hold on and tell Female Boss that he's waiting for her to pickup again.

As the phones are slowing down a bit, I notice that Female Boss hasn't grabbed the line, so I preempt Male Boss' inevitable phone call that will be filled with screams and profanity.

"Hey, Male Boss, she's on the line.. you want me to have her call you back?"

"No way. Put her on the fucking line, this shit can't wait."

I feel like knocking Female Boss' teeth out with the receiver, instead I tell her again, "Male Boss is on the line for you, he said he can't wait."

Female Boss isn't having it. I imagine she is in the middle of some gossip or discussing how ol' horseface (or recently gifted to me via a fellow Angry Timer, this one) from Grey's Anatomy is hot or something. The only reason she's on the show, by the fucking way, is cuz stupid ass females have such a fucked sense of what is good looking that they drive her to some sort of status in the realm of attractive. Which makes me fucking puke. Listen idiots, if you think she's hot.. no, not even.. if you think she even lies on the cusp of the outskirts of a good looking female, and you're not a girl, you're fucking retarded. Hell, even if you are a girl you are completely senseless. I want you to hit that link to her ugly mug again. Go ahead, click it and study it for 30 seconds, I'm serious. Study it. Soak in the gross and then click here.

Seriously, aside from a pair of slightly funner cheek waddles, that dude ain't half bad by comparison.. at least that mother fucker can win a bar bet or two by eating a baby whole. I mean come on, what good is that chick? She's repulsive. I'd sooner put that dress on that thing from Pan's Labyrinth and dine on some fairies or clean this frog's spitoon for a week than slap that lady across her whore mouth. Putrid, vile.. okay, enough..

I feel better now. Point is Female Boss doesn't feel like talking to Male Boss and I have to juggle these two buffoons until their brain waves collide into a supernova of inanity. Rather than puss out like and make like a slug, I give it another go.

"Hey Female Boss, he's pissed. You should probably grab the line."

"This is too important! Tell him that he can fuck himself and I'll call him after."

I go back to Male Boss and tell him not exactly as much but he gets the point. Male Boss is pissed. He calls me back not even 15 seconds later and says, "I am coming back to the office, I'm gonna kill her."

I grin and wait. What's this? The phones have died again. Sweet, time to get back to my work and.. what the fuck? The first line I catch from Female Boss' important conversation is:

"... so it lays on its egg the entire time. It doesn't even get up to eat!"

Now before we grab the torches and pitchforks I think you all need to look at this from a different angle. You see, Female Boss learned something and like any adolescent mind, she wants to let others know she too can learn. Sharing is an evolutionary step in the right direction for this young mind. Well done, Female Boss. You not only absorbed information but you passed it along.

However, the beacon of promise didn't burn too long. While Female Boss was still on the line Male Boss comes in the house screaming at her. Apparently, Female Boss passed on a job for a client due to her laziness and didn't bother asking Male Boss if he or The Professional wanted to pick up her slack. I guess the client was so offended that they didn't order anything from us since. Male Boss found out by chance when he went to visit and smoothed things over. Its worth debating tho, which is more important.. making a living and maintaining a business or talking about our avian friends?

A Brush With Death!

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

So I'm driving down the freeway the other day with the windows rolled up and the A/C humming so that my intake of stupidity is pretty minimal. This is a common concern of mine, the inhaling of fumes that people with low IQ have been scientifically proven to emit, but not really like smoke. It is my belief that smoke, smog and the like that our cappuccino skies offer only make my lungs stronger.. but taking in any amount of dumb from ppl, that god knows where they've been, that just creeps me out.

So while driving in my steel cage insulating me from the infection of idiocy around me I get to see some classic smarts at work. I am not a fast driver, I tend to coast around the speed limit or 5mph over, steady as she goes. I am passing a car that if I saw in my kitchen I would have mistaken for an egg.. then it happens.

The truck in front of me, typical mexican immigrant hauling system strapped with about 14 items too many and stacked up about 6 feet higher than a highway underpass, lets fly a plastic bag that was covering some sort of trinket. I am about 200 feet behind this guy and right along side the egg. Plastic bag takes flight and swoops over to the egg's lane. The egg slams its breaks, I kid you not. We went from neck and neck to me seeing him in my rear view about 150 feet back in 2-3 secs. The plastic bag found its target and latched on to its prey.

Now I am sure you are thinking that maybe the bag got caught on this fruit's windshield wiper or something. Nope. No. It was caught underneath the front bumper. Now ok, maybe this fuckin idiot got scared and his cat-like reflexes that scream out flight in today's gene pool laden with way too many pussies took over and made this guy fear the plastic bag as if it was a jackknifed 18 wheeler careening across the freeway, but no. The guy continues to slow and slow and slow. Before I know it cars are slowing down behind me and this guy is becoming a speck on my mirror. The egg stayed in sight for about a minute or two and then vanished as I took a slight bank to the right on the freeway.

So no, there was no logical response to this. There was no reactionary prowess to be discussed here. No mental acumen, no cautionary take, not even worthy of a gold star from a kindergarten teacher. This was just 100% retardation. The best part is the jackholes behind me are the ones that pay for this guy's irrational behavior. This is one of the reasons that traffic is so insane. You put a fair amount of stupid ppl on the road and there are gonna be plenty of problems. You put a shit ton of stupid ppl on the road you have the Los Angeles traffic. I don't need to say anymore than that.

Can O' Hot Dogs

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

This is a slight deviation from our regularly scheduled Angry Time post. Its an ode to a good friend of mine. A recording of an event that is worth its re-telling through the generations. Its something that Angry Time will eventually switch over to if I ever leave this job and run out of the typical Male and Female Boss stories. This is one of the happenings in my life that I am most proud of and its definitely an homage to one of my best friends who happened to get married this last weekend here. With all the nudging and urging I received for me to roast this guy during a speech at his wedding, I decided it better not to do during the dinner and all due to the length of the story when told properly and well.. you'll see why. His brothers and friends wanted to hear it bad but hey, why not make an indelible mark here on the ol' internet. So, for all the people at the wedding that wanted the story.. you can now read it here. Enjoy!

Let's take shit back a good 15 years to high school. The year is irrelevant and the grade escapes me.. but what doesn't is the scene. Here my friend and I stand in his kitchen, we'll call him Meilla (pronounced May-Uh). Two young lads that take down a good 5,000 calories a day are scrounging thru the kitchen pilfering whatever goods we stumble upon and turning his parents' hard earned cash into energy to fuel our minds and bodies to come up with ridiculous situations like this.

The typical meal for Meilla and I was an entire loaf of Roman Meal bread and a fist size helping from a canister of Country Crock. Sure, why not. It was cheap and did the job. Not that day, tho. That day was something special. There was a wind of promise in the air and it swept fortune down upon us. Indeed, it was the culmination of Grocery Shopping Day. With cabinets freshly stocked Meilla and I had our choice of what to take down before the armada of his 3 brothers and 1 other sister got home to steal what was rightfully ours. So plunder we did.

We ate like Spaniards. Goodies and taste treats abound. Before long, Meilla stumbled upon processed gold. A can of hot dogs. A 12 count can of hot dogs, "in water." I think the liquid soak resembled something more of a brine or a pint of hog squeezin' than it did water, but what a find nonetheless!

As Meilla opened up the can of hot dogs the stink breached the kitchen air. The all too familiar smell of over-processed hog anus sprung from the freshly opened can. The room seemed to become more humid as the bouquet soaked into our pores. Mind you, we had taken down about half of the food supply his mom, aka Mommers, had brought home for the entire week, but despite the odds being firmly stacked up against any chicanery, my natural ability to instigate didn't let me down.. and genius struck.

"Before you choke down one of those hot dogs like a stork would a mackerel, let me present to you a gentlemanly challenge. I propose to you, dear friend, for the rewarded sum of $20.. well let me be frank, I think you haven't the moxie, gumption or tenacity to take down all those hot dogs in a timed trial."

Perhaps I didn't speak half as eloquent and maybe I wasn't wearing a pair of suspenders to push forward with one thumb nor had I a long enuff mustache to twist between the thumb and index finger of my other hand when I was fifteen but I think its pretty damn close to what really happened...

Meilla squinted his eyes at me after challenging his manhood and spat, "Name your terms."

My response was simple, "Five minutes, the entire can."

Meilla leaned back against the formica counter top staring down the can of plump pre-cooked wieners soaking in man-sweat and pig urine. His stomach was already distended from the 30 minutes of gorging prior to the challenge. His eyes took a pass at me, I stood stoic, staring him right back down taking the $20 out of my wallet and putting it down on the table. His eyes went back to the wieners, back to me and back to that god damn can that seemed to mock his every breath.

Meilla took a deep breath and said, "I'll do it."

In my heart of hearts I knew he was finished. I handed him a shovel from the word go and he had already dug half of his grave with the myriad of chips and dips and crackers that pushed and stretched his stomach walls to the breaking point. He slammed both of his hands down on to the table, one on each side of his opponent. The can did not waiver, it just stood there churning the cesspool of multiple layers of fluid around like a bilge on some long abandoned houseboat.

"Well then, how are you going to take on the challenge, standing or sitting?" I asked him.

"I'm gonna stand."

"You tell me when you're ready."

Meilla took a few deep breaths. His lanky frame hovering over the can, readying himself for the battle. Seconds turned into minutes and all of a sudden the call was out.

"Okay," he said.

"Go!"

Before competitive eating was a thought in the mind of some all too bored idiot, I became witness to dining etiquette completely foreign to me. Meilla reached in with each hand plucking out one wiener per and then switched his grip on them to how one would hold haunch of mutton. They were plumper than he had anticipated but took the first two out quickly. Two more were pulled from the depths of the commode, the hot dog bouillabaisse dripped down his arms, off his elbows and on to the vinyl floors forming a slick stain challenging his footing. Two more! He forced them into his maw and with great discipline continued to chew.

With his chin slathered in drippings he had at it again, two more! This time the chewing had slowed. It was a battle of wills, I could see it in his eyes. Oh and the smell.. good lord that smell.. it started to get to him. Nuts to the olfactory center, must stay focused. His esophagus dissented next, pleading with him to cease and desist making it harder and harder for him to take down the hot dogs little by little. He had about 2 minutes and change left with 4 dogs to go. With his mouth not completely emptied he took a breath and had back at it.

The call came out, "Two minutes!"

Meilla steeled his will. Taking down the first dog and with it still not completely chewed in his mouth, Meilla broke the next dog in half and shoved them into the corners of his mouth. His gumption waned. His chewing had all but stopped.

"Do it!" I shouted at him, "Take them down! You have a minute and a half!"

He leaned over his foe trying to breathe and chew and swallow all at the same time.

"Come on!" I yelled, "Finish them! You gotta have em all down!"

Another 30 seconds fell off the clock, "One minute!"

Meilla stood there with dog giblets resting on the corners of his stuffed mouth. His saliva had broken them down to thick paste and they started to fuse with his skin. Meilla did his best to try and remain focused, he desperately tried to chew and chew. There were still two left in there. What was he to do? With no room left in his mouth, he reached back in with one hand.

"That's it!" I responded with gusto.

He broke it in two and they disappeared into the half eaten flesh within his mouth forming a soggy meatloaf that you might be served whilst dining in the 4th ring of Hell.

"Thirty seconds!"

Meilla lurched back exhausted. He reeled and reeled but my heckling.. I mean encouragement would not fail him, I was determined to get him thru this!

"Sack it up you have twenty seconds! Chew damn you, chew!!!"

His slumped posture and defeated eyes stared back at me. His mouth was unable to even move. I had to do something...

"Additional minute for half the pot! Ten bucks, You have another minute. Finish the job!"

Meilla's eyes lit up and his mouth started to work again. Chomp, chew, grind. His saliva had broken down the fatty walls of the dogs but even still he could not swallow the meat pudding filling his gullet. The gag reflex was in effect.. he kept it down tho it wanted so badly to escape. Still poised, Meilla gathered himself and took down a bit more. A little more still. Despite his best efforts, his mouth was still stuffed.

"Thirty seconds, come on!"

He cocked his head back and took a deep breath. I could see the spittle mixed with hot dog juice spurt out like a broken water gun against the sunlight that shone thru the kitchen window. His cheeks were stretched like a water balloon, the pain was immense. He was all but done for.

"Another minute awarded, $5, finish that last dog!"

Meilla struggled to clasp the can of dogs and out came the last wiener. His hand shook as violently as a crack addict reaching for his foil pipe anticipating the morning's first hit. He took a bite out of the dog, tho I do not know how. His mouth was so full that he couldn't actually close it but somehow used the pressure of his jaw lined with hot dog porridge to break away a small chunk.

"Breathe, damn it breathe!" I instructed him.

Meilla could take no more, he rested his lazy bones on one hand that leaned against the table.

"Finish the job, damn you!"

The saliva building up in his mouth began to spew forth like clear gullet milk, thick and putrid. I winced at the sight of it spilling down on to the tabletop. He kept trying to chew but he couldn't make a dent. He started to wave his hand at me as if to say I am done. No, Meilla! Failure was not an option.

"Meilla, you listen to me! Sack up and finish that shit off! You're right there! Fuckin finish it!"

I turned from heckler to motivational speaker. Meilla didn't respond to my provocation the way I would have wanted. He was losing grip of reality and the last hot dog. It started to slip with from his grip and his face was losing its color. I couldn't have that.

"Fuckin chew that shit! Chew it and take it down! Put the god damn hot dog in your mouth and be done with it. Its the last one!"

His entire body quaked with an emphatic no but Meilla raised the hot dog to his parched and cracking lips. In it went, he coughed and gagged, spittle flung from his mouth and he still couldn't chew.

"We're going on ten minutes here, man. Let's go!"

Meilla placed his hands on his hips straightening out his posture and began a slow, steady and methodical mincing of the mouthful. He halved the load to the point where his cheeks weren't puffed out like a trumpeter. Meilla saw the light at the end of the tunnel, the trial was nearing its end, he wanted to finish strong and save any last shred of dignity he had left and like any good friend I snatched victory from his grasp and told him, "Two bucks man, two bucks to finish this off, drink the damn juice!"

Meilla scorned me with his eyes and grabbed the can. He nodded at me angrily, still unable to speak and lifted the can to his lips. The lukewarm slurry hit the back of his throat and Meilla leaped for the sink. He spit out the last of the dogs in his mouth and poured the juice from the can down the drain. The towel was thrown in.. Meilla was humbly defeated.

In his defeat he was met with uncontrollable and mocking laughter for much longer than he should have.. not to mention during the ENTIRE challenge. My stomach was as tight as a drum and cramped from the heckling. And there Meilla stood, slumped over, sick of sound of my laugh sicker even still of the taste in his mouth, yet he did not reach for anything to wash the flavor out cuz he was completely up to his eyeballs in pre-digestive food.

Meilla just stood there for a good ten minutes in a daze.. the look that he gave me forever seared into my brain. Completely disgusted, with his loss and with himself in general, Meilla gathered his wits and shook his head at me. Poor, poor guy..

However, this was not the end of Meilla and his competitive eating career. He went on to out-eat just about everyone I know very handily that stepped up to the plate. From backyard hamburger barbecues to In N Out competitions Meilla has proven to be a formidable giant in the eating department and why not, he is about 6'6" now and having gone thru the rigorous training of growing up with the likes of me, he is prepared for any challenge that may come his way in the future.

To Meilla and his wife, I wish them the best, they had a beautiful wedding and it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy to find a hell of a gal. Meilla, this one's for you. Cheers, man! May you have many happy decades together and I'll see you when you get back to the States.

A Missing Mr. Foot

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

Hmm, where to start on this one. I guess let me describe the back yard for the dogs. Its not a large property as I have mentioned before and over the last few months Female Boss has started buying a number of dog houses to put outside. These dog houses vary from Dog-loos to standard wooden dog houses. With the 3 dogs there are now 7 houses out there. What? You want me to explain the mind of a dim-witted sloth with downs syndrome? Just stay focused.

With the number of dog houses out there, our friend Mr. Foot has made finding him quite the challenge as of late. Finding him, you ask? Yes, finding him. You know cuz all of the "dog training" and all the "practice" Female Boss has done with them they still aren't on the whole responding to your own name deal yet.. in time, I'm sure.

So about once a week the office here goes thru the Pigfoot Scare. Its this whole series of shenanigans that involves Female Boss freaking out about not finding Pigfoot after checking 2 of the 7 dog houses and thinking that he ran away even tho there is no possible means of escape for him.. and seriously, why the hell would he leave? He has it made, he's as feral as a dog gets AND he is treating like a king second only to The One. He's not going anywhere but this doesn't stop Female Boss from going thru the weekly meltdown.

This particular instance Male Boss volunteers for the task of finding where Pigfoot is hiding. About three minutes later I see Male Boss come in to the house rather stealthily with Pigfoot in hand. He puts the dog into his jacket concealing him completely and arousing some suspicion to his new 12 pound goiter bulging from his right love handle.

Male Boss walks in to the office where Female Boss is nice and flustered, "I think he's fucking gone, Female Boss."

Just so you know, Male Boss' right side is showing to me and not to her. Upon any type of observation you can still tell I'm sure but I just want it out there that Female Boss isn't completely oblivious.. only extremely. Male Boss' first line elicits no response from Female Boss so he goes on.

"Did you hear me? He's gone! The fucking ppl came today and signed away the papers for adoption. They took him, Female Boss. He's gone."

Female Boss leaps from her chair. She is flush and her eyes are like saucers, "What the hell are you talking about!?"

"You heard me, he's gone. Under new ownership, right Northe?"

Male Boss turns to me and winks. I figure that Female Boss may have caught that and figured out the joke. I assume too much..

"You what? What!?"

Female Boss is seriously erratic. She knocks over her stapler trying to get around her desk to go check out if the people are still in front of the house.. or something. As soon as she brushes past Male Boss, Taadaa! He reveals Pigfoot from his hiding place holding him out towards Female Boss.

The room turns icy cold.

"How dare you! How dare you," she scolds Male Boss.

She takes Pigfoot from a smiling and giggling Male Boss and continues her lecture.

"Oh, you want to stress me out? You want to give me a heart attack? This is the last thing I need and somehow your fucked up brain thinks that this is appropriate to do! I can't take it. I can't fucking take it. How dare you do this to me!"

She presses Pigfoot against her bosom. I can see her eyes welling up. I can't believe it. She is completely flush.

"I am taking the dogs with me!" she screams.

She leaves a few minutes later and didn't come back till the next day. Yeah, I'd say thats pretty rational. If you google pet owner's greatest concerns you'll find out that it indeed is drive-by adopters coming to ppl's houses and getting custody of dogs right under ppl's noses. She has every right to lash out at Male Boss for playing on this common fear. Male Boss just better hope that it doesn't happen for real now since he put it out there. Karma just may bite him for this...

Dunkirt the Unclean

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

Well the pig has grown up to be a big fat bastard. He's pushing upwards of about 200lbs now and they are saying he is about 2/3 grown. This means this feed pig will make plenty of carnitas for all my readers when I either gun him down or he passes due to natural causes.

By that last statement it seems that my opinion of little Dunkirt has changed over the last half year or so. Indeed it has. He's not a pleasant pig. He is quite the ass. Stay tuned for further examples on this. For now, I want to share with my Angry Timers a pretty sticky tale.

During the summer, this pig does next to nothing. He is constantly in the shade and sleeping. That's fine, I don't blame him. Its hot as fuck out. If he only did that it wouldn't be something news worthy; however, Dunkirt finds it suitable to shed his skin like a snake during these hot months.

"Shed like a snake?" you ask. No, I guess not like a snake but the mother fucker sheds. He sheds these large slices of bologna off his back. I am not kidding. I guarantee you I could set up a condiment table next to that fat fuck and get school kids to line up with wonder bread in hand to make sandwiches for their sack lunch. Its fucking repulsive. The smell? It is very reminiscent of the ol' football locker room.. just dirty and hot. Fuckin' foul.

So during these glorious summer months Dunkirt and his stench is beginning to attract flies.. likely due to the basketball size piles of feces he leaves around and that whole unpleasant odor thing. This particular day, Dunkirt has posted up shop next to the front door.. outside of course. When I come in to work, Male Boss is having some sort of fit. Female Boss is doing her usual shun and ignore technique but this doesn't stop Male Boss from insisting on what he saw...

"I seen it, Female Boss! I fucking seen it! Come look, they crawl thru and in, thru and in," says Male Boss with that child-like glint in his eye.

"Leave me the hell alone, Male Boss."

"Get the fuck up out of your chair and clean that fucking pig. That is not right!"

"Oh grow up."

"Northe, have you seen it? The flies crawl thru and in his ass! The flies are coming out of his ass!"

Ohh, that's good.. so Dunkirt's ass has now become a brood home for flies. The sad thing is that I don't think Male Boss is exaggerating when he says this. I believe it.. tho I am not sure how exactly flies are crawling "thru" and then "in" the pig's ass. I guess you'd have to see it and I am not ready for that quite yet. Unreal how much I dislike Dunkirt now. I mean, that pig is something foul.. unholy even. My once proud little piglet has become a disagreeable swine. There can only be one lesson learned here today, kids.. yeah you guessed it.. wash your ass.

Too Much Spare Time?

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

Before I spark off my most recent stint of gumption to begin posting the Angry Time stories again, let me describe what exactly it was that ignited the flame of hate this morning. On the way to work, I spy with my little eye a frikkin 65 year old whore sitting at the bus stop. Just so you know, whore is being used accurately in this vignette. Let me describe.. picture if you will, a 65 year old woman with a white wig on that climbed to the clouds like Peggy Bundy after sticking her finger in an electrical socket. She was wearing a pink, plastic outfit that was tailored for someone about 40lbs lighter and a foot shorter. Upon closer inspection, this monstrosity was sporting some fishnet stockings that would cause the most stalwart of Scotsmen to dry heave. So there she sat, at the bus stop, facing the direction that the bus would ultimately arrive yet was bobbing her head back and forth with her eyes closed, fighting off sleep, as if to say, "I had a long night of turning tricks," which is just disgusting but it also made me wonder how the fuck does one get from birth to that. How many more cases need I come up with till you are on board with Systematic Population Thinning?

On to the tale! Angry Time has been on major hiatus but I dare you to deny that this post isn't worth the wait! Since pictures are worth a thousand words I will just give a brief synopsis of how these photos came about. I was snooping around and found a memory stick. I popped it in to the computer and Great Caesar's Ghost did I find a gem!

Here's the first one.



Curious photo.. That's gotta be Male Boss, I recognize those pants anywhere. Hmm, but I have no clue where he is, that flooring is completely foreign to me. Furthermore, I have no clue whose dog that is. I click to the next photo.



There's no fuckin' way, right? This can't be what loyal Angry Timers may have already suspected is it? The look in the pup's eye.. determination.. it can't be! With my mouth slightly ajar I go to the next...



Oh hell no... this is shocking and completely predictable at the same time. Shocking cuz he's taking photos of it but predictable cuz Male Boss is enjoying it. Also, note the amount of movement going on here.. tile.. to rug.. to hardwood flooring.... ....from the windows to the wall? Next!



Now the pup is in to it. Face smushed up against his pant leg.. full force. Who is enjoying it more is up for debate.. discuss among yourselves.



This one even makes me feel dirty. Its a pretty fitting finishing look. The reassurance that Male Boss is satisfied, cuz this pup is about done. Oh and if you didn't notice with this flooring and the last, its a different pattern of tile.. hence, a new room.



Aaaaaaaaand... I'm spent.

For those of you who have forgotten, here's a link to remind you. For those of you who remember but want the easy click to re-read the past behavior, here you go. Bottom line is Male Boss is one sick fuck. Its one thing to have a dog going to town on your leg.. its another to have the presence of mind to take photo after photo after photo... in someone else's house! I think the only thing I could have asked for is a time stamp on each photo.. to see how long this crazy fuck was entertained for.

Update: After Commissioner Phelps' comment I dug up the original source. Lo and behold he was right. Basically checking out the time on which the files were created I now have a time frame. Now there are 9 original pictures, of which I used six. The first photo was taken at 8:14:12 PM the last photo was taken at 8:31:52 PM. Do the math yourselves.

Boss Warfare 6

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

The key to besting one's opponent is to know one's opponent. Male and Female Boss seem to know the exact right thing to do to drive the other up the wall. This particular Boss Warfare will highlight a pair of counter-offenses. When your adversary starts twisting your nipples how will you respond to win in the end?

Scenario #1: This an evolving new behavior learned by Female Boss. She piloted it a few months back when on the phone with a Plastic. Basically, Female Boss will exercise this behavior if Male Boss is badgering her about a work assignment, a call back or doing anything work related while she is on the phone and not in the mood to work. This happens to be most of the time, which is why it is in its evolutionary stages.

"C'mon Female Boss, stop fucking around I need your help."

Female Boss to the Plastic on the line, "Oh, I'm sorry Plastic but I am not allowed to be on the phone right now."

Male Boss usually barks back to her, "Yeah, yeah, yeah fuck you. Get the fuck off the phone and quit bullshitting with your friends. Sick of your lazy shit!"

The other day Female Boss was on the phone with Padre. You remember him don't you? If not, I have a great story coming up about him and a one Dunkirt.

"Female Boss, I'm sick of you wasting company time when you should be in here working with me and Northe!"

"Padre, apparently a man of God isn't worthy of my time right now.. making money is more important."

"That's fucking bullshit, Female Boss. Say goodbye shortly and get in here."

With the switch in attitude from Male Boss, a faint spark from a dying neuron fires in Female Boss' brain. This time, unbeknownst to Male Boss, Female Boss is on the line with her parents. He has no clue as he has just walked back into the office from being gone.

"Hey Female Boss, can you help me in here please?"

Chatter, gossip, blah. Female Boss stays on the phone.

"Please, I'm begging you. We have to talk about this and send off a memo to a client."

Female Boss continues to ignore him.

"Female Boss! Now! Get the fuck in here right now! Hang up the phone and fucking do your job! We have clients that need our expertise, please!"

Sneaky, sneaky Female Boss.

"Oh, I'm sorry mother I am not allowed to speak to you while at work."

"Ohh no. Don't start that shit. You speak with your mother and cut that out."

"Sorry mother, I'm apparently grounded. I can't speak with you. Perhaps I will get permission to call you in a couple hours on my drive home."

"Cut it out! I do not say you can't speak with your mother. Fuck! Lying asshole."

"That's right mother, I have to go."

*Click*

"Fuck you, Female Boss. You're an asshole, make me out to be a bad guy when all I ask is that you do your job."

"Well, my mother won't know the truth will she?"

Ouch, Male Boss, ouch.

Scenario #2: Its toward the end of the day. Female Boss is riding Male Boss about being a terrible person.. this is all too normal for me but perhaps not touched on enuff here at Angry Time. For some reason every now and again Female Boss calls a meeting to the last of her brain cells and sets them to self-paranoia mode. She begins thinking of ways ppl in her life are conspiring against her.. actively seeking out a way to drive her own self completely nuts. It's good... Once her normal state of dementia is overridden, Female Boss slips into a state of mania crossbred with anxiety. At this stage you can expect an awakened rage as ancient as Archimedes' Death Ray. Fortunately for Male Boss its not all that effective.

In response to her accusatory advances, Male Boss goes out back and brings Puppy into the sitting room. Female Boss is screaming at him, she sees that he feels it right to ignore her. Male Boss places Puppy in his lap and Female Boss starts on him about how he doesn't care about the dogs.. about how she's not even sure who the dogs really belong to.. just complete irrelevant madness. Poking, prodding and probing for something.. anything to get pissed off at. I pretty much think its the smart thing to do. Its how I tend to pass my time as well.. as you can see with this blog here.

Male Boss sits there stoic like a dragon on a perch overlooking a town ripe for a firestorm except the reality is that Male Boss is slumped way down in his trusty couch, wearing a sweat suit from the early 90's sporting a 5 o'clock shadow and a powerful musk that smells like sauerkraut and cheese blankly staring at the boob tube. Once he tires of the ranting he takes Puppy and sets her into a crib, yes a fucking crib, that these jackholes bought to put individual dogs in while in the actual office. The point is it keeps them contained along with their sporadic letting of feces and urine.. house training the dogs is not an option still.. even with the Bird Trainer.

Once Puppy is placed in the crib, Male Boss sits back down on the couch and watches the fireworks. Puppy begins to cry like you wouldn't believe. The crib is in the corner of the office, kind of in between where I sit and where Female Boss sits. However, the crib is blocked from my point of view.. whoever is in the crib they can only see Female Boss. The best part is that its just far enuff away from her to where she finds it a pain in the ass to get up and do anything about the cries from Puppy. Shocking as it may be, Female Boss is unable to do two things at once, like concentrate on work and listen to Puppy's nonstop yelping. Male Boss knows this, he's no spring chicken.. he's an old hand when it comes to this war.

"Male Boss, can you please get Puppy.. I can't think with her crying."

Heh yeah, after a half hour of beating him down she's gonna go ahead and use the word please as if that's gonna help.

"I can't think in here! Male Boss, please!"

Female Boss is about 10 feet from the crib, Male Boss is about 30 feet from the crib.. the problem is easily remedied by a little gumption and self-motivation.

"Please! Can you get Puppy out of here and put her back outside!"

Male Boss is as passive as Ghandi on his deathbed.

"Get the fucking dog, now!"

Male Boss doesn't budge. He takes in the scene much like I would.. grinning from ear to ear. Female Boss, you lose.

A Finer Moment

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

Sorry for the late evening post. I didn't get a chance to write shit all week. If you understood how busy I was this week you'd pretend to empathize with me.. its a good one tho, enjoy it.

I remember this one time, when I first started at this gig. Back when I had to cannibalize those around me so I could put food on the table. You know, back in these days.

Well, lemme backtrack a bit. Before I had the current job that I hold here, there was the whole ascension thing I had to go thru. This is another of the many steps I had to take to ensure my right to the throne. This particular tale has to do with my ability to grind down one's soul to dust over a short period of time. My target was this fooligan of a girl.. jeezus.. how am I gonna describe this whore? Well lets make it easy and just go ahead and call her Whore. Very well then. So, Whore landed a job in the office before I did. Not by much, maybe by a couple months. I think the whole recent hirings deal had to do with a few of their long time employees decided to up and leave so we became their replacements.

Moving right along.. after Female Boss introduced me to my new co-worker, my eyes perked up. Something interesting about myself is that kinda like how a dog can sense someone's fear, I can sense someone's stupidity. To be blunt, this clownass is off the charts dim. On top of that I have this tendency to pick on those with a low self-esteem. Whore happens to have one of those too. After further review I can tell that she's one of those unattractive office temptresses that bats her doe eyes and begs for help getting whatever she wants thanks to the jelly-spined males I am ashamed to be associated with. You know who you are, you fools. Try getting some standards. You hear me? Ugly is not a standard either so stop letting yourself off the hook. Just cuz a girl thinks she's fine or acts like she's attractive on any level doesn't make you slick if she talks to you. You're ripe for shit talking if you pull it around me. Step up your game. Challenge yourself!

Once I've taken note that Whore is bathed with a triple dose of "Put me out of my misery, Northe," l deem, as king, that this job isn't right for her. Basically having to share the same air space with someone so unproductive and whiney assists me in arriving at my executive decision. Whore now becomes a target of my malice. Like any good flayer of flesh, I coerce Whore into my confidence. Such tactics may include speaking down to them as a of show superiority but with a smile to give your average pigeon, whose diet likely consists of heaping portions shit-faced grins, something to be distracted with while taking the verbal beating. Once your mark is softened up, depending on the degree of stubborness this may take a few days to a week, you start with the gossip.

Being in many business politic situations, I can tell you that there's nothing more the bottom feeders of the office crave more than gossip. What's more is that when you give them a "head's up" on a suspicion that you are "having" that "directly affects them" you'll be "idolized" before "you" know "it." With the tenacity of a dung beetle I start shuttling mounds of bullshit her way on a quarterly basis. Quarterly meaning four times a day. Usually start off in the morning with what I like to call an eye opener. Around lunch time you wanna smack em with some heavy conspiracies and at the close the day.. say when you're walking to your cars or if you leave earlier than them, a gentle whisper over their shoulder planting a seed for the morrow.

Let me tell you my idea then. Basically it was my intention to pit Whore against Female Boss. Knowing that women are absolutely crazy (men are stupid, girls are crazy.. more on this another time). Let's face facts here, this is hardly a challenge for me; however, I would introduce the fact that even someone as skilled as Vasili Zaitsev would enjoy taking a magnifying glass to an ant on a hot summer day.

So let's go over what a typical onslaught from me to Whore would look like on one of the few short days it took me to win over her mind, shall we?

Eye Opener: "Was Female Boss kind of a jerk to you this morning too?"

Your Angry Time Explanation: Reason being is that a typical morning employee isn't very alert upon entry to the office. Most mornings consist of waking up and complaining about their life till they park themselves in their seat and work on their chair-ass. Forcing the mark to second guess one's recollection, as I have shown here, helps bring awareness to any unfavorable treatment. Focus the mind of your guinea pig to only see the negative.

Lunch Time Folly: "Female Boss was kinda bitching about some work you had done. Did she make any mention of it to you?

*The answer is most certainly no.

Your Angry Time Explanation: You can be assured of this playing out bcuz you made it up. How could the answer be yes to something that never happened? All that is left to do is steer the conversation toward how much work has been taxing your brain. You know, doom and gloom it. This is sure to get the depression to surface if not bubble over.

Follow Up: Before lunch is over, go ahead and reassure your target.

"Bah. Anyway. I think I'm just venting. Female Boss isn't that bad. I'm sure its nothing."

Your Angry Time Explanation: Cuz when you've started, you might as well have a good deal of fun while you're at it. Plus, downplaying such a serious conversation to be something irrelevant will help propel the zero to insanity that much quicker. If you wish to toy with your prey for a longer period of time, feel free to ignore this step.

End of Day Closer: Go ahead and explore any whim that you may have. One that I always found to be trustworthy was, "We're free till tomorrow. Then, it begins again.. should be better tomorrow tho." Shit-faced grin, wave.. walk away.

Your Angry Time Explanation: The goal here is to make them dread work. Remember, keep your eye on the prize. My goal is to cannibalize her position. I am following that path. Whatever your goal may be, manipulation, getting the mark to hate you, suicide.. the key is to never stray too far from what you wish to ultimately accomplish. Lack discipline and you will compromise your mission.

Several days into the hazing, Whore is a basket case. With some helpful mood swings by Female Boss, Whore does not know up from down. Whore is certain that Female Boss hates her and the pressure is really beginning to mount. Without further detail I will have you know that she crumbled in about a week's time.

My favorite was the day before the morning she called in to the office to quit she was stewing at her desk. In Whore's frantic state she was fidgeting noticeably. Now you have to get the finality of the story in context, we are essentially in a house, we work out of one.. doesn't matter that its techinically an office. The place we work in is a home and you really do feel that comfortable.. but not Whore. Poor thing. She musters up the courage finally and this was probably one of her last phrases ever uttered at the office. It went like this:

"Umm, Female Boss?"

"Yes?"

"Umm, do you mind if I get up to grab a glass of water?"

Realize how strong the fear had gripped her. When was the last time you asked anyone permission to drink anything? Whore was broken down to dust and jelly. No courage, no confidence, no gumption. Like I said, she quit the next day. Not in person either, she phoned in and said she would no longer be attending work here. We mailed Whore's final check that afternoon.