Git-R-Done

Tonight, after work, I met with some of my more interesting co-workers at the local watering hole for a bitch-fest. Today was supposed to be the day that the big-nacho at work was to announce the winners of the coveted "lead positions." So, we had planned this happy hour for all of those who bid on those positions (except the people we hate **cough** Broomhilda **cough**). That way, we could either congratulate or console them. Well, our fearless leader's indecisiveness seems to have rubbed off on his heir apparent, big-nacho, and there is no decision yet.

So we all sat around bitching about the fact that the company has been doing this reorganization for a year and a half and hasn't reorganized squat yet. But, that conversation was short, as we'd all grown tired of hearing about it for this past year and a half. Instead, we moved on to more important things, like something our buddy liked to call FDA.

FDA is apparently something our buddy came up with in her younger years. It stands for Fat Dick Area, or men who seem to be carrying all their weight disproportionately below their belt (and not in a good way). Ya know... Someone who's kinda shaped like Barney the satanic purple dinosaur. Anyway, me and girls had a good laugh at that until the Flying Monkey showed up. Thankfully it was already time for me to go.

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