Replace the flippin toilet paper! And other office assholishness.

There's at least one in your workplace.  You know the one, when there's a scant amount of TP left and they use the toilet, you can be certain to find the roll empty when you race in to pee like a racehorse.  But don't worry, there also won't be a spare roll within your reach, so you'll get to hobble around the bathroom with your lacies around your ankles in search of the elusive roll or at least a friggin tissue.  Thanks for nothing, bitch, I like the ass-out-waddle-trying-not-to-drip-piss-in-my-shoes dance.  And it's not a once in a blue thing, it's an every fucking time occurrence. Maybe it's my bad and I need to walk around with a roll under my arm, just in case. That won't look weird at all. Maybe someone should install a square-accountability system whereby everyone has to sign off on how much toilet paper they are pampering their asses with per trip.  Not sure if it would work, but I'm certain most folks would like it better than dealing with me using their jacket to clean off my ass every time they pull the wipe and run shit.
If that doesn't seem to bug you, maybe the "interject themselves in every conversation asshole" does.  This walking brain fart may quite possibly have the ability to time travel or appear in a tiny puff of smoke, unnoticed until they open their flaptrap and stupid flies out of it. Somehow, they've missed the memo about sticking your nose where it doesn't belong.  Doesn't matter if they were invited into the conversation, pulled in to answer a question, or just got the nod of ok.  This assclown has the information you seek. Why? Because they know everything.  This is likely to be the same person I referenced in another blog, the one who is an expert on everything and has no problem letting you know. Yeah, love that.  Perhaps they are just lonely?  And maybe I don't give a ripe fuck. You're lonely because you are obnoxiously ill-mannered and a pain square in my asshole. If I didn't beat it out of you, I didn't want your opinion. Private conversations are just that...private, invitation only, keep out, steer clear.  Floating up to us and laughing along with the joke you didn't even hear, is totally fucking asinine and so are you.

Of course, one of my all-time favorites is the reason all food items should be clearly labeled and counted, weighed, and maybe photographed before placing in the unsafe area known as the break room. Without fail, there is always someone who thinks that all the food is laid out for their personal use and that nobody minds at all if they eat half and take the rest home. Don't bake and bring in cookies if you want one.  Put one aside in a secret place, like your bra and run like hell after you drop the plate on the table. Now I know you're thinking, most people take one at most and are considerate of others.  Are you fucking high?  Free food brings out the ugly in all of us, but it brings out the hideous as homemade sin in this broad. Where I work, we've actually counted the number of candies in a bowl and the number of donut holes on the plate...and recounted periodically throughout the day, deducting the small amount actually consumed by us, the self-ordained food police. Someone had to do it.  Short of naming the guilty parties on a poster board above the table, complete with a photo of the pig, what can be done? Who knows? One day we'll install cameras...until then, we count and run like bitches, laughing.
I'm fairly certain your workplace has one of these anuses.  After using the office copy machine to make 2,379 copies of fuck-knows-what, there's no paper left. Do they tell anyone?  Nope, their copies are done, who cares? You race in to make that all important copy that is needed right friggin now, slap the page on the screen, shut the flap, push the COPY button and FUUUUUUUCKKKK, the red light comes on alerting you to the fact that there's no goddamn paper. This has happened to me more times than I can even begin to count. Each time I get just as pissed off as the last time. This bitch has to be the same person who uses the last paper clip, last rubber band, last tissue, last breath of my air and tells no one about it.  Lets it ride and doesn't care if you need it. Oblivious to your situation, they continue to use up all the supplies until the closet looks like it's been pillaged by the Romans. Another instance requiring the installation of cameras.

One more type of person really rubs my fur in the wrong direction.  Busywork bitch makes me want to rip her head off and shit down her neck. You're racing around, arms loaded down with your work and the work of at least two others, no time to waste, and this bag of rags is pushing paper around with her brow furrowed like she's solving calculus problems in her head.  A quick glance brings to light the fact that she's doing a whole lot of nothing. Sadly, this is a daily event for Miss Lazy Ass. Cool as a cucumber on days you are sweating like pack mule walking on the equator, you often wonder if she ever does any work at all. All signs point to no and the extra workload constantly piled on your already sagging shoulders is confirming your suspicions.  Sadly, if your superior calls her out on her lack of effort, she'll come up with all sorts of valid-sounding excuses. If she's really good, she'll invoke the name of her doctor and create all kinds of medical reasons she has to sit down all day and avoid most types of movement.  Lacking an MD after your name, you don't want to question her or call her bluff.  Carry on, workhorse sisters, she ain't changing for you or anyone.  Bitch has a good thing and she sure as hell won't allow herself to lose it.
The only way to avoid this bullshit is to work from home. Tons of jobs offer telecommuting options.  Take them.  Take it for me and enjoy the silence and extra toilet paper and cookies you can call your own.  By now you've figured out that I cannot work from home. Trapped with under-zealous, brain-dead, thieving, know-it-alls, I'm suffering for you.  If I could punch them all in the throat, I would. But prison  isn't an option for me.  Are you friggin kidding me right now???