20/09/2010

Its finally evening, about 6.45pm and the bank is almost empty. In fact, apart from me, the only other people here are Adolf, (my idiot boss), Mr Anally Retentive himself (the auditor boss), that skinny bitch with the anorexic attitude and two other shit head colleagues. This strikes me as odd, because on a scale of 1 - 10, these are the five people whom I hate the very most in this place. Man fuck them, I'm out. I'm going home, these bastards can kiss it. I rarely make an effort to be polite, and so when I do make said effort, I think its only proper that politeness be shown back to me. As I walked out the door, I was polite enough to say 'good night everybody, have a good weekend'. Nobody replied. They all just sat there, staring at their fucking computer screens. This upset me. Sons of bitches could've at least said goodbye, even if they didn't wish me a nice weekend! They couldn't say goodbye?! This continued to play over and over in my mind, as I got further away from the office door. I can't really pinpoint the exact moment I lost it, but it suddenly got a bit much for me. There's only so much a man can take.
I turned around and started walking back to the office door, not quite sure what I was going to do when I got there. As I was contemplating the stinging tirade of words to deliver to them, I sighted one of the security guards metal detector baton thingys, propped up just infront of me, on a wall. Don't ask why, I just picked it up. I've never held one before, its quite heavy. With enough force, one could inflict serious damage with this thing..... Where was I? Right, stinging words.... Fuck that....
I re-enter the office and notice that Adolf and Mr A.R aren't at their desks. Probably on conference call to Lucifer in the board room. Anorexia Alexia isn't here either. Maybe she finally got too thin and just withered away. No matter, the two dumbfucks are still at their desk. I think they're gay though. They spend way too much time together to be just colleagues.
I walk up behind them and ask, as politely as possible of course, why they didn't reply my goodwill message. They scoff at me, telling me to leave them alone, feigning some important assignment they're currently engrossed in on their monitors. These bastards are probably checking out gay porn, and they have the balls to dismiss me?!
My left hand, the one holding the baton, suddenly makes an appearance. This thing has a mind of its own sometimes, I have no idea when I swing the baton at Kci and Homo. It hits one of them squarely in the back of the head. His head pitches forward and smashes into his pc screen. The other one doesn't know what the fuck to think. Before he can move however, Lefty the Terrible moves again and swings the baton at his throat. Damn Lefty, why you gotta be so mean? I think you shattered his larynx. How the hell is he gonna deep-throat his man-friend now? Speaking of his man-friend and head, that big piece of computer screen glass in the side of his head is really unsightly.... He should get that checked out.
I should leave before anyone comes back. I am leaving. Lefty, we're leaving and that's final! But then, wouldn't you know it, right on time, Mr Anally Retentive makes an appearance. He goes to sit at his desk and asks me why Kci and Homo have their heads on their desk. I shrug and tell him I have no idea, maybe they're both tired. I walk up to him and ask if he remembers what he told me earlier in the day, when he gave me a memo for a little mistake I made in the processing of a transaction. He said he couldn't recall telling me anything and I remind him that he told me I can't get anything past him, his eyes see everything. They are perfect, according to him. He smiles as he remembers this, and I smile back as I reach for the stapler on his table. "Sir," I tell him, "nothing should be perfect. We need to correct that...." My trusted Left-tenant takes this as a cue, and I hit Mr A.R on the side of the head with the stapler. That had to hurt, but not as much as this..... While he's still semi-conscious from the blow, I reach over his table and force his head down. As I staple his eyelids shut, I tell him his eyes are no longer perfect, just the way I like them.
This entire activity has engrossed me so much, I didn't notice Anorexic in Wonderland looking at me in horror and confusion. Bitch, you're still alive?! I thought you spontaneously combusted or something, from all the friction that must occur when you walk. Come here.... I don't usually hit women, but today I'll make an exception. Lefty (good old Lefty) backhands her across the face and she hits the floor like a sack of bones (I made a funny! Get it?). I stand over her and begin to unbuckle my belt. She looks me dead in the eye and says, 'no, please, don't rape me!'.... I'm astonished! "Rape you?! Bitch have you seen yourself?! I'd rather fuck him!" I say this pointing to Mr 'all seeing eyes'. "I've always just wanted to take my belt off and whip the shit out of you! Now shut the fuck up, you're ruining it for me". I proceed to give her 20 lashes of my belt, or 50.... Maybe it was 250, I wasn't counting. The only reason I stop is because I suddenly realise I haven't seen Adolf yet. Where the fuck is that sadist?
I walk round to the back, and of course, he's in the vault, doing his end of day check. What to do, what to do? How do I make this bastard pay? Don't you love lightbulbs? They always flash at the right time. And the vault's lightbulb flashed just then, reminding me that the vault has no windows or ventilation of any sort. Well, this is all too easy.... As I lock my boss inside the vault, I once again wish him a nice weekend. I also inform him that I'm no doctor, but I hear asphyxiation can be murder.
I exit the office, passing by the carnage that has occurred and I think to myself, 'well that was liberating...' I should do this more often, its a great form of stress release.
I approach my space ship, humming Method Man & Redman's 'Cereal Killer'. Dammit, its going to be a long drive home, better get a move on. Someone taps me on my shoulder and I damn near have a heart attack. I turn around and see its one of my boss's (may he rest in peace) favourite customers, and one of my most loathed. He asks me if my boss is still inside, stating he'd like to discuss an urgent transaction. I smile and say yes, he's very much still inside. Infact, I just came outside to get something for him from the trunk of my car.
I pop the trunk and as always, as ever, Lefty grabs hold of my tyre iron.....
I am Womilee, and then I woke up....

13/09/2010

Testing, one, two, three,.... is this thing on? Hi. My name is Womilee. Do you remember me? We used to hang out a lot. You've forgotten already? I'm hurt....
Ladies and gentle beings, I have a question.... Where's the love? Where's the muthafucking love?! Where did it all go? What happened? Did I really stop trending so quickly? Where are all the ladies that promised sexual encounters? What happened to the gentlemen that promised free booze, all on account of GIM? I would just like to note that I prefer gifts of these forms specifically from these genders. Though free booze from the ladies would be a welcome treat, sexual favours from dudes is a strict no-no. Getting back to the point, again, where's the love? I'm gone a couple of months and I'm history already? My 15 minutes of fame are up, Womilee is not fashionable no more? Is it really that easy to lose interest? A month and a half ago, I had promises of love and conjugal bliss from so many women, I'd began to delude myself when I looked in a mirror. And this present day, I could go out in public wearing a giant pink t-shirt with 'I am Womilee' emblazoned on the front in fluorescent green, a marching band, midgets doing acrobatics and that Derenle homo just being himself and even my most avid reader would scoff at my futile attempt for attention.
Even on twitter, which admittedly I'm not a very big fan of. In my usual stealth mode, I discovered I lost some followers. Okay, truth be told, one of my advisors discovered that, I could give a fuck honestly. What I'm saying here gentlefolk, is my feelings have been hurt. I thought we were forming a nation, a movement, a revolution, with me as the leader, screaming "death to the muthafucking scumbag capitalist sumbitches! And they mama's!" But I disappear for a few, and the movement is over. Again gentlefolk, I'm hurt.
However, it pleases me to announce, I'm back. I will not let this revolution fail! I am the Che Guvera of slackers! The Adams Oshiomole of faffers! The MLK of lazy muthafuckers who don't wanna do shit for a living! So to those who doubted, to those who deserted, to those who absconded, I say to you all.... Blow me bitch, again, I could give a fuck....
What's good, good people? Miss me? I missed you. Come 'ere, give us a kiss.... You homo muthafuckas stay back tho. I would like to say that so much has happened in my hiatus.... but I'd be lying. My life continues to get more and more boring by the day. If my life was a reality show, itd be called 'Watch Something Else, Really'. I do have some news,.... Guess who isn't a virgin anymore? That's right you beautiful muthafuckers, I got me some nookie. Infact, I got me a whole lot of nookie. I have sinned and sinned and then I sinned some more. And it was gooooooood! Chances are, I'm probably going to sin again soon. May the Good Lord forgive me and the sexy young thing I'm planning on violating, for the evil we're going to commit, over and over and over again....
There is however, some un-good news. We've all realised I can't do this daily. Even thrice weekly is a daunting task. So, it is with a heavy heart, but much lighter balls, that I announce that GIM is from here on end, a once weekly affair. Bear with me gentlefolk, its for the good of all.
Now I know you want to hear a story, don't you? Story, story.....
Despite my nobel prize and guinness world record for biggest asshole ever, I am a rather charitable person. Unfortunately, I am not wealthy enough to form my own special charity, or donate billions to my favourite worthy cause. But when I see someone who needs something more than I, I am prompted to give. Its true, Womilee is slightly human. All manner of ailments or needs fall under this category. I will lend a hand to anything from financial woes to health issues. But one thing I will NEVER be charitable to, is unattractive women. I don't give a fuck how bad you need it, you aint getting it from me!
The fates (bitches that they are) know this. And they have twisted it for their own pleasure, as usual. Gentlefolk, cast your minds back to a post about a female banker with an exceptionally impressive beard. Do you remember? Well guess who's been hitting on me for about 3 weeks now?
It would be sad if it wasn't so scary. I don't know what the fuck she thinking! She's older, and I have nothing against that. Lord knows, there're a couple of MILFs in that office that can get it, anytime. But Chick Ross?! Mrs T?! Hell fucking no! I'm no pretty boy people, but the air-conditioning doesn't shut down when I enter a room, thus I'm allowed to be picky. And I do not fuck ugly women. Or physically displeasing females. Or aesthetically unsavoury members of the fairer sex. Its not a pride thing, or arrogance, its simply a lifestyle choice. I do not and will not help any un-nice broad in need of nookie.
I want to tell her to stop. Stop popping into my cubicle and asking me how I am. Stop asking me if I need a lift. Stop offering to take me to lunch. And for fuck's sake, stop commenting on my beard! I know bankers shouldn't keep beards dammit, you know that too. What's your muthafucking excuse?! Unfortunately, she's also a bit of a boss in the place, so I can't tell her these things. I can't tell her that I'd rather stick my dick in the office shredder. I can't tell her that I wouldn't cum in her mouth if her teeth were on fire. I can't tell her that I'd prefer to have sex with myself, stripped naked, standing in front of a mirror and whacking off to the sight of my ugly ass. All I can do is smile, shake or nod my head and say 'Yes Ma'.... Like I said, it'd be sad, if it wasn't so scary....
Gentlefolk, I leave you now. We shall dance again next week, I guarantee it. Till then....
I am Womilee, do u remember me?