21
"Things Co-Workers Have Shown Me That Are Worse Than A Sports-Bra"
"Things Co-Workers Have Shown Me That Are Worse Than A Sports-Bra," by a lady who apparently works at Gomorrah Slag and Harlot LLP:
* bites on chest sustained during sex with bitey new guy.
* various and sundry rashes
* impressive bruises all over butt from being (consensually) spanked
* the place on the floor of an office where sex was had the night before, including the wet spot.
And how is this nice? Liar.
WHAT YOU TALK!
This is good old fashioned America sexy-time!
It is nice because I don't have bite marks, rashes, bruises or wet spots to share with my coworkers. Wait. or a sex life?
Yeah, thanks Choire. This was supposed to be Nice Day!
I know so much what you mean. And they always want to see YOURS first.
Dov Charney currently has all of Gomorrah Slag and Harlot LLP on retainer.
My list:
– Pictures of grand-children.
– Pictures of chihuahuas.
– Myspace pages.
– Album covers of coworker's band.
– McDonald's food.
No one has shown me anything that matches what The Temp. has seen, but a co-worker once asked me at lunch if I had ever drank my own breast milk.
Was he drinking at the time?
"drinking it".
Durp.
/dies
She was eating, and continued to do so. I did not.
did you faint when you read the end of grapes of wrath?
Things co-workers have shown me that are worse than a sports bra: Their true selves.
On my first day at work: Hysterectomy scar.
Themselves wasted in my apartment groping my friends at my birthday party*
*I secretly enjoyed this.
Thank you for this, Choire. 'Harlot' is a sadly underused word these days.
Also, way to keep that fine gender usage distinction going with "Gomorrah." The hint of postapocalyptic pitch and brimstone in "gomorrah slag" was delicious, too.
"Let me pull the skin back so you can really see it".
on the other hand, i've showed my co-workers myself falling off a bar and getting a minor concussion, so fair's fair.
Their poorly written screenplays and poorly produced low budget movies for which I then have to make-up some poorly thought out compliment.
Listen bitch, if you can simper around cooing over your 40+ pregnancy, I can show off my 40+ hickeys.
I think she works with a girl I used to work with at Antique Boutique, who sat me down one day in 1998 and assaulted my virginal ears with a story about her boyfriend boning her with a Hennessy bottle. I was never the same.