Legs Benedict

2009-03-16T18:13:00.001-07:00

You realize that you told a bio cancer specialist that she is dumb and you are smart right?

Here's One.

2009-03-16T04:07:00.000-07:00

You're fucking stupid. Boring. Annoying. Basically a total pain in the ass. Oh man how I wish I didn't have to see you every day. Talk to you every day. Read your stupid inter-office emails every day.

I hate you. Hate you hate you hate you hate you. I can't believe I spend my life in this pursuit. It makes me so unhappy, barely pays my bills, and of course I have to deal with you.

You and your stuff about you. You whining to the girls in the office. Always going for the pity fuck.

Always thinking you're sly.

You're barely literate ok. You feign friendship with others and then send out stupid little pass-agg memos.

I can't take it any more. I'm so sick of acting like your friend.

The way you two sit around and gossip.

The way you smile in everyone's face.

Oh Jenna

2009-03-09T12:41:00.000-07:00

Pulled me into the copy room. I said, "We can get in so much trouble."

You said, "Baby turn out the light. Mostly everyone is gone for the day."

I went right for you. Your hair smelled like shampoo and your neck had some other scent. We kissed fast but we were grabbing. You undid my belt and I took off your panties and pushed your skirt up.

A couple of grinds and I was inside you. You were so light we could fuck standing and facing each other.

Your hair stuck on my lips.

Your breath in my ear as you said, "Don't drop me, baby. Please don't let me fall."

Jenna at work.

2009-03-07T09:35:00.000-08:00

It's just that sometimes I think about how nice it would be if we started fucking. Every day I pass your desk and every day you say, "Hi, how are you?"

And every day I smile at you and say, "I'm fine. You?"

And then you say something back.

But the thing is I think we're looking at each other a certain way. Like a way that says, "Hey let's go get a hotel room."

And I know you have a husband and kids but I can tell by the way you tilt your head and raise your eyebrows when you talk to me that you want to fuck.

That's what I think we should do, Jenna.

I think you should suck me off and let me rub my hard dick between your titties.

And I would suck your clit and lick your asshole.

I bet you would taste so nice.

So nice. Oh, Jenna. They say you are a controller. Baby baby come and control me.

This bitch and that bitch.

2009-02-23T10:33:00.000-08:00

This bitch and that bitch are not allowed to be friends. This bitch and that bitch must forever stay apart. They will fuck each other or worse become friends. And then they won't pay attention to me anymore.

And that shit simply cannot happen. Meeting through me and then leaving me in the dust will not happen if I can help it. Oh no.

I mean it, bitches. I totally fucking mean it.

No, I get it. You're busting my nuts over a metrics report that you are not trained to interpret.

2009-02-23T10:17:00.001-08:00

"No, Legs. This column. On the left. See? 77%."

"Yes. But that column does not apply to my specific performance. It describes the progression of the ENTIRE GROUP from the start of the implementation. I'm over here on the right. 97.43%."

"Well. Why would this column be on here if it didn't have anything to do with you? You are a part of the group, right?"

"Yes. I am. And if you add some other people's 65%'s and 81%'s to my 97.43%, you will most likely find a number that comes out around 77%."

"I'm not going to sit here and add and divide, Legs. That's not what this company pays me to do."

Of course it is not, thinks Legs. It doesn't take a guy with, IDK A MASTER'S DEGREE, to figure this one out. The company pays your short little ass to harass the employees who do a good job and behave and show up and as a result can't be fired. You are employed to induce those employees to quit eventually so that the firm will not have to pay their pensions.

Don't worry. I completely know what your job entails. They pay you to bully people. And what a lovely job you have. And oh, that girl you're fucking now that you're both managers?
Wanna see pictures of her? I have some on my phone. One is of her belly. I think you'd like it.
It's covered in something thick and milky and smells kind of like Clorox sometimes.

How can you call me after all this time and act like everything is cool?

2009-01-23T07:18:00.000-08:00

We were totally dysfunctional. Right? I mean, the police were at our door more than a couple of times. Right? And then there was the drugs and the drinking and the cheating. And the lies.

Back when we first got together I was messing with other girls whenever I felt like it, I'll admit that. But then later I stopped doing it because I was feeling all guilty and thought I loved you. Or maybe I did love you. I can't remember. I know that I for sure do not right now. That I promise you.

I don't know, I guess I'm a hypocrite but it really hurt my feelings when you started fucking my friend. Also that you kept the $2000 bed I bought and now my former friend sleeps in that bed with you in the house we used to live in.

So like it was really weird that you called me last night. How you laughed about something and said, "Oh, I guess we're both just crazy, right?"

I kind of laughed back, but here is what I really wanted to say:

Back in the day during college. Do you remember that girl named Arnette? The one you said wouldn't look you in the eye? Like five foot nuthin with blue eyes and sandy hair. Glasses. Super smart. Bangin body.

Her and I fucked like every day all summer term. You were at our house and she lived with her dude so we had to do it in public. On campus. In the stacks. Empty conference rooms. Unlocked lecture halls. Up against the wall in the student center.

Actually, the time we did it up against the wall was the first time. Her back was to the wall and when I leaned in for the first kiss she immediately put her hands into my shorts and started playing with my dick. This was like at 11 am. Right out in the open. I knew she was game.

Anyway. So that's why that girl wouldn't look at you. Sorry it took me so long to confirm your observation. Please don't call me any more.

Kenna Lolly is my new manager.

2009-01-21T21:30:00.000-08:00

You were horrible when we had the same job, Kenna. But you're a girl, a slutty girl, and we all know where that gets someone in a corporation these days. I'm not trying to hate because you're hot and we had our thing, but holy fucking Christ, I can't believe you're fucking around with Dave Darmont. And at work even.

Maybe you think I'm stupid but when his office is completely dark and both of you are in there what am I supposed to think? Other people see, too. You should watch out for Karen. That religious cunt is out to get you. Actually, she's out to get everyone.

Part of me like hates you because you do a terrible job at work but keep getting promoted. Another part of me remembers how much fun I used to have with you. I guess maybe I miss you. Your short little body naked on top of me.

And me with a serious other at home. How dirty was that? She found out later, you know. I told my friend and I guess he told her when they started fucking.

But it doesn't matter. You were way better.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is that is not fair that you fucked your way into a hundred g's a year plus all of that stock and I'm still not answering my home phone because of all the bill collectors. I was in the top five percent of our firm last year. Worldwide. You weren't even ranked.

Nothing is ever fair is it? Oppositely, I never had to suck any dicks up in this bitch. I guess you can't say that can you?

2009-01-09T08:31:00.000-08:00

I just jacked off. I was watching RedTube. Some chick wearing yellow dish washing gloves gave a dude a hand job. Their cat was walking around in the background. The animal cast a shadow on the wall of the apartment. I was like, what, these ppl have lighting (albeit poor)?

After I came and wiped my jizz on a paper towel sitting on top of the garbage can next to my desk, I scratched my ear with my pinky. Totally nasty. I got come in my ear. I can also feel some drying on my forearm.

I called off work today.

Oh, yeah. I forgot.

2009-01-04T07:09:00.000-08:00

Baby, remember that Korean girl you thought was my friend? Fucked her like twenty times. Same for the girl from Spanish class and a lot of the girls we hung-out with. Actually, the list goes on and on. It was because you suck in bed. I hope you're practicing a lot on your new boyfriend. I wouldn't want the same thing to happen again.

This is my second New Year's Eve without you in my life you fucking cunt.

2008-12-31T06:26:00.000-08:00

And for the second year in a row I don't have to worry about you cussing at the wrong time in front of the wrong people or laughing the loudest or using was instead of were or telling your embarrassing ghetto stories to anyone who will listen while I stand next to you. You make me cringe. Did I ever tell you that? I mean, did you ever stop to think that the holidays are NOT the time to tell everyone about your health problems and how rough you had it growing up?

Lots of good things going on over here in Benedictland. For example, this year I don't have to worry about getting totally obliterated at the New Year's Eve party just so I can fuck you later. And I don't have to worry about running around to find enough drugs to get me high enough to put aside the revulsion I feel every time I look at you. Every time I smell your breath that you won't go to a dentist and get taken care of.

My family told me not to get with you when we first met. My friend Jason made a face I will never forget when I first told him about you and me. I should've known. Your stupid trade school degree and sleeping in your car. What the fuck was I thinking?

You're going nowhere. The thing is you're too Jerry Springer to even know it. I thought, I don't know what I thought. Now we have all this debt together. I'll never be rid of you and it sucks. I never have to fuck you again, though. Or act like you're cool around way cooler girls.

I guess that makes me feel somewhat better.

So, my dear. Keep smoking your cigarettes in your redneck rental house. Wreck your shitty car over and over like you always do. Cry. Get people to feel sorry for you. And stick your twat around your sycophant, unemployed (like you), boyfriend's cock. I hope it's big and meaty and smells like lack of showers.

I hope you choke on it and die at midnight with a bunch of people watching.

I hope I hope I hope.

2.0

2008-12-30T08:00:00.000-08:00

Want to talk Office Space?

My cunt of a manager, Mandy, just faxed me back a form I had to sign and fax to her before it could be forwarded along the line. Mandy could have just as easily faxed it to her boss, which is where it's going, after she saw I'd signed the thing. Think she did that? Fuck no. This is Corporate America. Now I get to fax the same document for the second time.

Mandy's office is maybe twenty feet from where I'm sitting right now. On my last day here I am going to show her my cock.

1.3

2008-12-29T20:55:00.000-08:00

Me interviewing man for the position of Sector Coordinator.

Me: So what can you tell me about yourself?
Man: I'm a dirty scumbag. I'm on my third marriage. I have a coke problem about twice a decade. My credit is hit but you probably already know that from my background check. I barely made it through college. I fucked my brother's gf when we were in high school. I'm a sycophant. I kick dogs when no one is looking. Sometimes I think about maiming strangers when I masturbate.

Me: Ah. Wonderful. That must be interesting. Let me ask you. Do you think you can mesh with our corporate culture based on what I've told you already?
Man: If you're looking for a privileged, bougie, spoiled little baby who doesn't know how to do shit in the workplace beside point fingers and get admin assistants to jack his pud once every five years, look no farther. I am your man.

Me: Excellent. Excellent. The conversation feels right. You know what I mean? Tell you what. I'm gonna put you through to the next stage. I'm going to forward the (I make quotation marks with my fingers) results of this interview to Elaine Roberts and Tanisha Hightower and you'll be hearing from one or both of them.

That, in a nutshell, is my day.

1.2

2008-12-29T08:43:00.000-08:00

I want you to know that you can get as mad as you like but I'm going to say whatever I feel like saying on this blog. I have to be fake nice every minute of my life and it is killing me. Actually, I am not saying that I'm unhappy all the time and I have to pretend otherwise, please don't think it. Sometimes I am happy. But never at work. I can force myself into a good mood, or perhaps I'm even in a good mood sometimes when I get there, but by the end of the day I hate my life and everyone around me.

Rubber bands only stretch so far. One can only endure so many toneless, "Hi, how are you's?" per day.

"I'm fine. You?"

"Great. Greg and I took the kids to the (wherever the fuck) this weekend." Usually followed by something about, "Our church."

Oh, that's nice. How about this, Sharon. How about you're a fucking low down dirty lying cunt who would throw her own grandmother under the bus on the daily if she worked here. Your church. Fuck you. Hypocrite. You're the reason our minority and woman numbers are so low. You're the only one who never gets anyone but white men through. My bonus is based on that shit you whore of a cunt.

I can never say that, though. I have to sit there and go, "Great," and smell your Avon perfume and wait for you to leave. I have three interviews today. I'm busy. Go away. You should see these people's resumes. Fag Organization this, Black something or other that, Buttfuckers Award from the Excluded Person's Rights Brigade. I have to dodge some serious shit and raise the percentage of freaks and oddballs we have working here.

1.1

2008-12-29T05:44:00.000-08:00

This blog focuses on my unhappiness with my job and my ex-gf, who now fucks a guy in my dept. and calls me when she's drunk on the weekends. My ex has a really stinky pussy. And horrible breath. Fucking her was never any fun and I could only do it when I was loaded on Macallan.

Several things about her bother the fuck out of me. First, she says, "Was," when the sentence clearly calls for, "Were." Second, gross toes. Third, she always has to be the loudest laugher in the room. Fourth, she's a broke bitch. Fifth, she lies about everything. For example, she claims to have been born and raised in a major city but is actually from a little redneck welfare town out in the middle of nowhere. She is their queen. The queen of the white trash.

I guess I should've broken-up with her sooner. Life with that ignorant bitch was miserable. I fucked every friend she brought around in the three years we were together. I also had numerous affairs at work and with students in the business class I sometimes teach at a local community college. Old friends. New friends. Drunk bitches. I was never picky.

1.0

2008-12-29T05:34:00.000-08:00

"Just between us, what do you think about my chances of getting hired?"

I think: Oh, I don't know. Somewhat good. I mean, you're not black or a woman, but you got that cripple thing working for you quite nicely. It's gonna be tricky to sell some of your background, though. One, nobody wants a white man any more. Two, you didn't start college until you were 31. I've also never heard of your school. Or the place you got your MBA. But, all in all, that little baby arm of yours is most likely going to work wonders for you here. Our cripple employment rate is below 1% and that's a big no-no. They might even fire a non-gimp in HR for running those kind of numbers. Specially with the constant audits going on around this place.

I say: I think you're doing all right thus far.

I think: Just be sure to flop that little teeny arm around as much as possible when the manager for your dept. does your final interview. You'll be gimping around the floors and elevators of this firm in no time.