Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Dear Guy Who Works Two Cubes Down From Me,




Dear Guy Who Works Two Cubes Down From Me,

Please stop following me with your eyes every time I walk past your desk. Please stop lounging by my cube, pretending to talk to the guy next to me. Please stop making me talk to you about banal bullshit after I tell you that I'm late for the bus. Please stop creepily remembering every single thing I've ever said to you.

And, most of all, please stop inviting me to that cheap Tex-Mex chain for lunch. The shrimp chimichangas will never stop tasting like lemon-scented Dawn and you? You will never see me naked.

Respectfully,
Laurie

3 comments:

Nicole said...

Ugh... Creepy.

Kinslerbot said...

plan: every time you feel him near - pretend to make absurd and gross phone calls.

Example 1: "Another yeast infection! Thanks Doctor, another round of antibiotics please."

Example 2: "NO mom I WONT come home this weekend to shave your back - it's Jeremy's turn!"

Movie Maven said...

I was going to suggest some countermeasures as well, but Kinslerbot's are too perfect. This guy needs to get TOLD something.

ARCHIVE!

 

  SUBMIT YOUR LETTERS!    



 

FRIENDS!