And who are you to judge my desires? What a man, a woman, two cats, a giant inflatable dinosaur and three jars of Yuban coffee do in the privacy of their own bedroom is their business. I don't need those leers or trite snickering when I walk past, ok?
F'locked post. QWP and all that jazz.
The locked post is here
Context is late for their EST therapy.
tail end of queenanthai's post...
ME: I don't really follow sports, sir.
RUDE GUY: Well, what's the matter with you? Don't you like men?
I almost wish I was a lesbian just so I could've gone all righteously PC on his ass.
...to which theflyers commented:
Just because you aren't a lesbian doesn't mean you can't play one on the phone. :)
The person who designed our conference room chairs was a distant relative of the Marquis de Sade, I'm sure of it. The poor mousy-looking middle aged furniture designer probably has no idea why he dreams of torch-lit dungeons and intricate devices of toruture, or why he longingly desires to slap his co-workers for fun. No, his genetic hard-wiring for punishment is buried far deep below his conscious brain, manifesting itself subconsciously only when he works. Specifically when he designs conference room chairs.
Granted, in real life it is often hard to have difficult conversations, but if I wanted real life, I'd be participating in it.
[Context can't top that for cleverness.]