I don’t know what your problem is, but I’ll bet it’s hard to pronounce.
How about never? Is never good for you?
I see you’ve set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public.
I’m really easy to get along with, once you people learn to worship me.
I’ll try being nicer, if you’ll try being smarter.
I’m out of my mind, but feel free to leave a message…
I don’t work here. I’m a consultant.
It sounds like English, but I can’t understand a word you’re saying.
I can see your point, but I still think you’re full of s**t.
You are validating my inherent mistrust of strangers.
Did the aliens forget to remove your anal probe?
Are those your eyeballs? I found them in my cleavage.
I like you. You remind me of when I was young and stupid.
You are validating my inherent mistrust of strangers.
I have plenty of talent and vision. I just don’t give a damn.
I’m already visualizing the duct tape over your mouth.
I will always cherish the initial misconceptions I had about you.
Thank you. We’re all refreshed and challenged by your unique point of view.
The fact that no one understands you doesn’t mean you’re an artist.
Any connection between your reality and mine is purely coincidental.
What am I? Flypaper for freaks?
I’m not being rude. You’re just insignificant.
It’s a thankless job, but I’ve got a lot of Karma to burn off.
Yes, I am an agent of Satan, but my duties are largely ceremonial.
No, my powers can only be used for good.
You sound reasonable. Time to up the medication.
Who me? I just wander from room to room.
And your crybaby whiny-butt opinion would be?
Do I look like a people person?
This isn’t an office. It’s Hell with fluorescent lighting.
I started out with nothing & still have most of it left.
You! Off my planet!
Does your train of thought have a caboose?
Errors have been made. Others will be blamed.
A PBS mind in an MTV world.
Allow me to introduce my selves.
Whatever kind of look you were going for, you missed.
Well, this day was a total waste of makeup.
Not all men are annoying. Some are dead.
I’m trying to imagine you with a personality.
A cubicle is just a padded cell without a door.
Stress is when you wake up screaming & you realize you haven’t fallen asleep yet.
Can I trade this job for what’s behind door #1?
Too many freaks, not enough circuses.
Nice perfume. Must you marinate in it?
Chaos, panic, & disorder—my work here is done.
How do I set a laser pointer to stun?
I thought I wanted a career; turns out I just wanted the paychecks.
If I throw a stick, will you leave?
Sarcasm is just one more service we offer.
Readers were asked to create new, nasty rhetorical questions in the form of the classic put-down “Is that your face, or did your neck just puke?”.
Here are the ones I thought worthy enough to pass on:
Is that your final answer, or are you still holding out hope that a brain will suddenly grow at the end of your spinal cord?
Is that your dog, or shall I call an exterminator?
Is that your cooking, or has the prison cafeteria started doing takeout?
Is that your nose, or are you just glad to smell me?
Is that your carefully considered position on the inconclusiveness of the scientific evidence of global warming and the dwindling supply of petroleum reserves, or your SUV?
Is that your real age, or have we abandoned the use of Earth years?
Is that a snapshot of your wife at the beach, or has the Mars Polar Lander finally started sending back pictures?
Is that your paycheck, or your share of the tip?
Is this your regular job, or did the judge give you community service?
Is that your toupee, or did you just lose a Silly String battle?
Is that your necktie, or did your girlfriend let go of your leash?
Is that your boyfriend, or does your pimp drive a Geo?
Is that your column, or did the million chimps in the typing pool call in sick last week?
Is that really the color of your eyes, or did your snot back up on you?
Is that your biological clock ticking, or at your age does one’s pacemaker get noisy?
Is that your PMS talking, or are you always a shrew?
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