Die

Those of you who speak to me on a regular basis (and by speak I mean read my blog because I don't venture outside of the walls of work for more than 20 minutes a day, on average, and when I do it's to go home and sleep and maybe eat but not necessarily in that order) know that I love my job. I love the people at my job. With the exception of her. You've heard me refer to her as "The Sea Witch", "The Sea Cow", "Fatty McBatty" and simply, "Whore".

If you've ever seen Death to Smoochy and the scene with Robin Williams watching TV with his feet on the boob-tube, screaming "I despise you. I LOATH YOU!!!!" and then kicking over the TV, and subsequently beating the shit out of it with a baseball bat, you'll understand how I feel about the office creature. Except I don't have a midget come into the living room to stop me from ruining his picture-In-Picture TV. Seriously...watch the film.

Aaaanyway...without droning on any longer about just how much I can't stand to look at her fat, smug, punchable face, I'll just give you one phrase to make you understand just how much I hate her.

I hate her as much as I love chocolate. Simple. But profound.