Why is it that co-workers want to share their personal lives with you? What makes anyone think that other people might be even remotely interested in their daily drama? Do I walk around with a sign around my neck or some tattoo on my forehead that says “please tell me about your uncle ned!” or perhaps “I care. Really. Tell me about your problems!” Seriously, the only reason I even said hello to you this morning is due to the fact that you were in the way of me getting to that most precious of elixirs – Coffee. Your giant, double wide, pastel colored spandex covered ass was standing between me and the only thing that may save your life today – which actually forced me to engage you in simple talk. Hello, please move your giant Mac Truck esque ass out of my way was not an invitation to tell me about your weekend. So why do you?

For the record I am not interested in any of the following information from a co-worker:
1) Your kid did anything at all, ever, period. I can only conclude that you love your child, unless you really are the lifeless harpy I believe you to be, and that you love everything that little Stevie does. I get it, I just don’t care. See you may believe your child to be special in a non bicycle helmet way, but that doesn’t mean that I am interested. Hell, I love my kid too, and adore every single little thing he does, that doesn’t mean I plan to run from person to person to tell them how he sings Disney songs in the car at only 19 months old.

2) I have no interest in your ailments unless you are informing me that you are incredibly contagious – and if you are why in the hell are you standing next to me to begin with? Get the hell away from me you disease spreading freak! In fact, you shouldn’t even be at the office at all. Three words: CALL IN SICK. Nobody will miss you. If you are trying to talk to me about that puss-filled boil on your neather regions, trust me when I say I don’t care. TMI – its in the game.

3) Office drama does not interest me. I hate drama, everything about it. I don’t like that there are people in this world, and my workplace, who are so bored that they need to construct drama where none existed previously. “Can you believe how Janet just looked at me?” If you really want an answer to that question go ahead and ask it , but I doubt you want me to tell you that Janet looked at you like that because Janet is a lesbian and you showed up to work today dressed like a 9th avenue and Main street whore. She wants to do things to you that are illegal in 42 states ( I checked). Of course, if I say that, you will bring me up on sexual harrassment charges for ANSWERING YOUR STUPID QUESTION TO BEGIN WITH.

4) No I do not care about your ideas. You work in your department and I work in mine. There are established ways in which we are supposed to communicate with each other and do our SEPARATE jobs. Follow these guidelines. Do not try to make me better at my job. Screw you. Maybe if you did your own job absolutely perfectly you would be a shining example of how one should act on a job site, in which case the rest of us will both hate you and maybe learn something from you. Until that point stop throwing stones at me or I will kill you with your own 400 lbs, candy filled purse.

5) Do not tell me about your sexual exploit filled weekend stud, I don’t care. I am married and thus the world of SEX no longer exists for me – having been replaced by nights filled with television, chores, and listening to my wife talk to me about her tragedy filled day. I realize that your fragile ego needs some stroking and thus you have embellished what really happened at that Bob’s Bate and Booze on saturday (that being you getting kicked squarely in the jumblies by a woman who could easily have been your mother’s mother) into how two hot, large breasted, asian twin sister flight attendants were playing how big is my shaft with your giant man missile. I know it didn’t happen, you know it didn’t happen, and Stacy, the 52 year old christian virgin, sure as hell knows it didn’t happen, so just STFU.

If I want to hear about your personal life I will ask you about it. “Hey Robert, how is the family?” or “Hey Bob, did you get that boil removed from your scrotum yet?” from across the office. until you hear me ask you how you are doing please, for both our sakes, just assume that I don’t care. You will save both of us alot of time and you a lot of mental and emotional abuse that I will definately sling your way with the accuracy of a Katana swinging Samurai.