TMI

The pregnant lady is still here. At the moment she is outside in a car with her husband and they're both smoking. I can tell because of the copious amount of smoke pouring out of the open windows on either side (I suppose the fetus should be grateful they aren't fishbowling). When I arrived at work Ashley wasted no time in telling me she saw them drinking beer in the lobby. So at this point I'm not really sure if I can or even should spin this into some sort of hyperbole (as is my wont) or if I should just go beat the s**t out of them. (But if I did that I could accidentally hurt the fetus, which is never my wont.) Jury's still out on this one, so...moving on for now.
READER WARNING: Do NOT read past this point unless you enjoy vomiting so hard that it shoots out both your nostrils, Play-Doh playset-style.
Today Ashley said our boss told her that when she gets her period her breasts increase by one entire cup size. I took this to mean that she's officially lost her f**king mind and therefore needs some guidance in her life. So listen up, Jackie: TMI! We're not your friends--we are employees! Please at least pretend that you want and deserve our respect! Stop publicly thumbing through your sizable catalogue of sickening foibles! An owl pellet would be a better boss! At least it's less disgusting! Damn, you know what? Everyone is disappointing me today! I'm out of here!