My job is so fсuкing unbelievable. I’ll try to sum it up by first telling you about the folks I work with:
First, there is this supermodel wanna-be chick. Yeah, okay, she is pretty hot, but dамn is she completely useless. The girl is constantly fixing her hair or putting on make-up. She is extremely self-centred and has never once considered the needs or wants of anyone but herself. She is as dumb as a box of rocks, and I still find it surprising that she has enough brain power to continue to breathe.
The next chick is completely the opposite. She might even be one of the smartest people on the planet. Her career opportunities are endless, and yet she is here with us. She is a zero on a scale of 1 to 10. I’m not sure she even showers, much less shaves her “womanly” parts. I think she might be a lеsвiаn, because every time we drive by the hardware store she moans like a cat in heat.
But the jewel in the crown has got to be the fсuкing stoner. And this guy is more than just your average pothead. In fact, he is baked before he comes to work, during work, and I’m sure after work. He probably hasn’t been sober any time in the last ten years, and he’s only 22. He dresses like a beatnik throwback from the 1960’s, and to make things worse, he brings his big fсuкing dog to work. Every fсuкing day I have to look at this huge Great Dane walk around half-sтоnеd from the second-hand smoke. Неll, sometimes I even think it’s trying to talk with its constant bellowing. Also, both of them are constantly hungry, requiring multiple stops to McDonald’s and Burger King, every single fсuкing day.
Anyway, I drive these fcuktards around in my van and we solve mysteries and sh1t.
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