T1B

This morning at work, I was in the middle of my second cup of joe when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. So, I turn to get a better look and standing not ten feet away is this dude in a red polo, with collar in full fukking pop!!

My gut reaction was to just walk over there and just knock him out cold. But, somehow, the rational part of my brain was able to take control from my natural instinct to stomp a mudhole in any popped collar wearing fukk. I told myself, self, chill. It ain't worth it. HR wouldn't give a damn about how this fukker had it coming.

I remembered back a few years when one dude at invited a considerably larger dude outside to discuss big dudes opinions of his mom. Well you've heard the old saying, it ain't the size of the dog in the fight.... well, big dog ended up leaving in an ambulance with a busted jaw. Little dog left in the back of a cruiser. Needless to say, he don't work there, no more.

As the rational side gained gained further control, I reasoned, well, it ain't pink. Good fukkin' thing dude doesn't have my wife doing his laundry, as hre policy is pretty much, wash it all in warm. Dude's bright red shirt would be pink by now and I'd be yobless and probably locked up.

A couple of hours later I walked outside during breaktime and damn near tripped over some some young fella doing his best don imus popped collar jean jacket impression. I just laughed and stared up into the heavens and asked god why he tempted me so much.

I think tomorrow I am gonna ask Karen, aka safety hottie, if we can implement some sort of dress code around this place to keep some mutherfukker from getting his ass whupped.

It's bad enough to have to see these clowns in public, but imagine being served by one on your time. That's what happened to me not too long ago. I was at a Macaroni Grill, and after the hostess seated us I noticed this gorgeous brunette waitress near our area. I figured she'd be serving us, and I was pleased, as was my cock. Next thing I knew this dipshit, who looked like a dark haired Richy Cunningham, rolled up on us and said he's going to be our server. HUGE buzzkill.

He was wearing the company-issued polo, but had FULL pop goin' on. It was high, crisp, and tight. I think he spent time ironing it, and I couldn't look him in the eye when I ordered. After he brought the check, I drew an arrow on the front of it, and flipped over it read, "you're a mess. get ahold of yourself."

I should've talked shit beforehand since it would've been damn near impossible for him to coordinate with the cook to lugey or splooge on my food.

Dude, please.....

Dude, please.....

I never thought of it like that.

MgoBlue-LightSpecial wrote: after the hostess seated us I noticed this gorgeous brunette waitress near our area. I figured she'd be serving us, and I was pleased, as was my cock. Next thing I knew this dipshit, who looked like a dark haired Richy Cunningham, rolled up on us and said he's going to be our server. HUGE buzzkill.

I'd be more fukken pissed about the dark-haired Richy Cockblock situation than I would about his collar. Of course, I'm more than likely sporting a Ralph Lauren Polo shirt this time of year (albeit without the collar popped), and wouldn't care what some dude was wearing. What comes into focus is trying to reharness the brunette and telling her to get you one of her friends there with firm boobilies and ayse to serve you instead of that fukken guy. I've walked out of restaurants before over things like that. I didn't come here to get served by some cheesedikk. I want to see boobs and ass while I drink my Heinekin. :cool:

MgoBlue-LightSpecial wrote:

Dude, please.....

I never thought of it like that.

laughed out loud at that one.

This is what you losers fret about? fuckin losers.

Mile-Hi T wrote:This is what you losers fret about?

Well, yeah. When we’re not fretting about where would be the best place to trade in an UNUSED set of Ping ISI-Ks.

I call bullshit. You guys gotta break out the camera phone like I did. Hell, I was in a fucking meeting and just kept laughing on the inside so much I pulled out the camera phone and pretended to be checking a text message to snap this bitch.



Nice stories though.

^^^ You mean the way her FUPA sets out further than her funbags?

General Peters wrote:I'd be more fukken pissed about the dark-haired Richy Cockblock situation than I would about his collar. Of course, I'm more than likely sporting a Ralph Lauren Polo shirt this time of year (albeit without the collar popped), and wouldn't care what some dude was wearing. What comes into focus is trying to reharness the brunette and telling her to get you one of her friends there with firm boobilies and ayse to serve you instead of that fukken guy. I've walked out of restaurants before over things like that. I didn't come here to get served by some cheesedikk. I want to see boobs and ass while I drink my Heinekin. :cool:

I see you workin', G-Slice. Thing is, guys like you already have the market cornered on that angle of the story, so I figured I'd put a different twist on it. Plus this whole hating on popped collar, pink shirted douchebags thing has kinda been the running joke around here for awhile...just in case you haven't noticed.

I'll say this though. The opportunity to view boobs during my meal was far from lost, as the chick I was "dining" with at my 12 O'Clock rarely declines to show off her sweater puppies for my viewing pleasure. What's even better is how they (usually) wind up in my mouth in the later evening hours. Plus, it's not like this loser was preventing me from checking out the brunette, who was but a mere 10 or 15 feet away from our table.