OH GOD there’s the annual staff meeting today and they're going to talk about the dress code, which says things like “no plaid hair” and “no facial piercings or visible tattoos that could cause psychological distress to a client.” What they
should be banning around here is mom jeans and cat sweatshirts. All of my cat-apparel-clad coworkers are agitated about the new dress code and say they’re going to raise hell at the meeting. I think I will silently forfeit my right to plaid hair and do what I usually do during these painfully long and unlikeable meeting things, which is chew my cuticles and glance up occasionally from drawing sailboats and transparent cubes.
Today Adam Carolla said: “She’s so sanctimonious, that big sack of wind called Oprah. By the way, can’t anyone just fire back at that fat bitch?” Finally someone’s taking the piss out of Oprah! She’s not married and she’s not a mother and yet she’s the idol of all these married mothers. Makes about as much sense as tits on a lawnmower, as my grandaddy would say.
