Pick That Shit Up!

Hey Mr. Man with the Wall Street Journal or New York Times in the bathroom.  What the fuck is goin’ on, buddy? You too good for the internet? Of course, the answer is ‘no’. Own a PDA and just don’t know how to work it?  If so, go get a prepaid cell and give that shit to your kid. He may stop calling you a dick behind your back.  Scared your boss will see you checking stock quotes or keeping up with current affairs?  Threaten him with a sexual harassment lawsuit in a one-on-one meeting.

I know! You still have a fantasy about being an animal, an animal who’s owner is so cheap they use newspaper to line the cage!  Well, grow the fuck up. I don’t want to feel like I’m in a hamster cage every time I take a shit at work.  And how come you never, ever, ever take the fucking paper with you? No one wants to read anything covered in your ball skin with the stench of digested Indian food all over it that’s been on a semi-public bathroom floor.  I’d rather go down on Rosie O’Donnell.  It’s bad enough you didn’t flush the damn toilet to make your “cage” look more realistic. Fuck it. I’m buying Depends from now on.  You people make me sick!

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