Permission to Replace Office Swivel Chair with Air Mattress

MEMO

TO:  Superior Managers of If I Told You I’d Have To Kill You (IITYIHTKY) Enterprises

FROM:  HNIC, No One Matters But Me Department

SUBJECT:  Permission to Replace Office Swivel Chair with Air Mattress

DATE:  Half Pass Right Now, 2016


This notice of memorandum serves as an official request for permission to replace [suite #211] swivel chair with a home-supplied air mattress.

Attached you will find a signed medical notice from Dr. Boo Boo McLeod, MD of the Unsanctified Round-a-Way Medical Center, requesting that human resource officials and all other appropriate personnel of IITYIHTKY Enterprises acknowledge and honor doctor’s recommendation for Hottywood Helps to permissibly replace is raggedy office swivel chair with a tricked out air mattress, in an effort to avoid any further compulsory medical treatment administered due to a rare case of coworkersannoystheshitoutofmeoxia, from which Mr. Helps suffers.

This condition causes Mr. Helps to lash out at fellow No One Matters But Me Department staff and risks interruption of interoffice departmental work progress, therefore he should be granted immediate approval to replace said furniture with a more comfortable sleep-encouraging apparatus.

Upon recent telephone conversations with Mr. Helps’ physician, Dr. Boo Boo McLeod, and in addition to research gathered from the world wide web, an air mattress would ensure Mr. Helps’ speedy recovery from coworkersannoystheshitoutofmeoxia.  Should the mattress coerce Mr. Helps into a temporary midday coma, the respite would ignite unused cells in his brain ultimately improving his work performance and allowing him to overcome the late day grogginess that so many IITYIHTKY Enterprises employees experience on a day-to-day basis (water cooler rumors have it).

I am in favor of supporting the healthiness of my entire staff and request that all official authorized superior managers do the same as long as proper documentation is supplied, not to include death threat notices.

In the event that further references are needed and/or necessary (in addition to Dr. McLeod’s recommendation), the telephone numbers of the below listed names may be provided upon request:

Please note that all below listed persons are dead so it may take a while to gather the information you seek [if applicable]. 

  • Winston Churchill
  • Napoleon Bonaparte
  • Albert Einstein
  • Leonardo Da Vinci
  • John F. Kennedy

Quote of the Week:   “A day without a nap is like a cupcake without frosting.”

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Can You Out-Snob a Snob?

As much as some of us hate to admit it, every single one of us has a little bit of snob in us. There are the hidden snobs that prefer bottled water over tap; the snobs that prefer “loud” over “bush”; the snobs that prefer lager over malt; snobs that prefer to eat their Snickers and pizza slices with a fork rather than using their fingers; snobs that refuse to wear the same thing twice (including wearing underwear two days in a row); snobs that won’t use public restroom facilities even though their stomachs are all but imploding from bubble-gut-itis; snobs that prefer one-on-on sex over group sex; snobs that prefer 7-11 hot dogs over vendor stand hot dogs; snobs that only eat a certain kind of ketchup or mayonnaise; snobs that are too good to bag someone else’s groceries for a living or take a food order as a drive-thru clerk; snobs that won’t eat a potato chip three seconds after it’s been dropped on the floor; snobs that judge people by the color of their shoe strings; snobs that…aw hell, you get the point! There are a whole bunch of snobs in the world. If you are able to lay your eyes on any person, then you are looking at a snob. But hold up…the same rule applies if another person can lay their eyes upon your snobbish ass!

Given this truth, it is always entertaining to watch a snob out-snob a snob.

There really is no point to this post except to remind us all that no one is perfect or any better than another. Everyone has issues; everyone has baggage; everyone has flaws. But it’s the snob in us that won’t admit those issues, bags or flaws out loud. Instead we’d rather wait and take offense when another snob airs out our dirty laundry. Do you see what I’m talking about? The snob in us won’t allow us to be honest with ourselves.

Endora (from Bewitched) said it best when she chanted the spell:

“…on the count of three we will see what a snob this clod can be.”


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Hottywood’s HORRORscopes: Week of March 13-19, 2016

Beer in Future

Find out what your luck has in store for you this week.


Capricorn

December 22 – January 19

Remove the “L” from Lover and there you have it; OVER.


Aquarius

January 20 – February 18

Be careful. Right now you may be able to buy anything you want, but one day you may have to beg for something you need.


Pisces

February 19 – March 20

If they don’t love you when the wrinkles in your skin look like a road map, tell ’em to hit the road.


Aries

March 21 – April 19

Sex is fine (well maybe great). Gold is finer (platinum is better). But pizza is irreplaceable!


Taurus

April 20 – May 20

Wrong questions get wrong answers.


Gemini

May 21 – June 20

It’s going to feel like a water balloon popped between your legs. What you do with this information is between you and God.


Cancer

June 21 – July 22

A deaf husband and a blind wife a happy couple does make, until someone needs the remote control.


Leo

July 23 – August 22

Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.


Virgo

August 23 – September 22

Slow down and rest before the bags under your eyes are mistaken for oddly placed breasts, which, if you’re man, may looker weirder than it sounds.


Libra

September 23 – October 22

Nothing brings two people together like potato chips.


Scorpio

October 23 – November 21

Masturbation keeps you from ****ing the wrong people.


Sagittarius

November 22 – December 21

You will be attacked by three baby midget sumo wrestlers on the night of the third Friday before a highly anticipated corn harvest festival.


Quote of the week:  “Thanks to Facebook, you now know what everyone’s bathroom looks like.”

A Historic Leap Year Bedtime Story: You’ve Got to Pay to Play

Fellas, today is the one day that you really don’t want to wear deodorant – especially if you’re single or once hooked up with a woman who saw hearts on your nipples instead of androgenic hair.

History deems February 29th as the day when any three-eyed bearded woman, whose weight happens to be more than a double-trunked compact automobile, is allowed to pursue any man of her desire relentlessly for 24 hours and beat the hell out of him until he agrees to marry her.  Refusal of the proposed nuptuals would come at a price.

The tale began some time in 5th century Ireland, when a desperate wench in the heat of unbridled passion finally asked the question to her then inamorato, “What’s love got to do with it?”, which [arguably] later inspired Tina Turner’s 1984 hit single “What’s Love Got To Do With It?”  

The wench, very generous with her “jewelry box,” was pretty pissed off at her gentlemen caller for hooking up with her for her booty without taking up interest in asking for her hand in marriage.  Tired of being labeled a harlot, one night while wrapped in the arms of her philanderer, she finally complained of the sexual unfairness.  Much like today, the man friend spoke from his head in the southern region rather than the northern, and finally relented to set aside February 29th as the day the harlot would be allowed the right to ask for his hand in marriage.  As years passed and their relationship dissipated, four years succeeding their emotionless relations the moll took the sir up on his offer, not discerning the family he had since started with another woman of whom he’d developed genuine feelings for.

The harlot, who had not heard from her ex mister in a few turns of a set of 365 days, 5 hours, 48 minutes and 46 seconds, tracked down her old beau to insist that he honor the promise he made to her in the bed where they lay one February night four calendars passed.  She had ridden a mule to the gentleman’s manor and hid behind a tall horse in a backyard stable with unsubtle patience, awaiting his bride to leave the grounds with their young.  Once the beau was left alone in the abode, she entered the estate, stripped him of his clothes as any honorable 5th century hooker would, and screwed him silly.  With each pelvic thrust upon his, she reminded him of the promise he made to her four years preceding that moment of conscripted fornication.  Now, being a faithful gentleman betrothed to the woman who bore his namesake, the former gigolo refused the harlot’s proposal.  Luckily for him, this woman was scorned in the 5th century and not in present day time.  Although the history of this tale is not completely substantiated, it is rumored that once the proposal was rejected, the harlot forced a razor to the gentleman’s neck and demanded that he repay her heartbreak with a final [tongue] kiss, a silk dress or a pair of gloves.

…talk about a cheap date.

Since then, February 29th has been associated with the day where a woman can be a butch for 24 hours and ask for a man’s hand in marriage or make him pay a penalty for [the proposal] rejection, which if you ask me is a win-win for the woman.  Who’s being unfair now?


Quote of the Week:  “Love is not having to say you’re sorry, unless of course your private parts stink when you’re getting special kisses.”

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“Tracks of an Underground Advice Columnist”