Moving is generally a horrible experience. I have personally moved more times than I wish to recall. Rustling through forgotten boxes and papers is emotionally draining. My most gut-wrenching moves were ones that took me far away from my kids. Every card or drawing found, brings back a flood of memories. You really can’t hold back the tears. Every move I undertake, I seem to have less and less stuff. My aim is to get my moves down to just one car load. Maybe there’s just something intriguing about having absolutely nothing to show for your life.
For my last move, I’m hoping to have only the clothes that I’m buried in.
If you don’t stop playing CoD by 10:30, we’re aren’t having sex.
It’s not Saturday.
If I don’t finish grading these 75 essays, you’re not getting sex this weekend.
Wife: Oh boy, it’s my birthday-no sex.
Husband: Oh boy, it’s my birthday-sex time!
Insert any holiday in 6 and 7. Wife: I want another kid. Husband: I can hold out.
Wife: Ok, I’m horny, let’s have sex. Husband: But Hitler is on.
Monotonous and meaningless meetings are forbidden, along with anything that could even be considered a meeting. Talking about the job at the water cooler? Verboten! If you want to drone on and on in front of people for an eternity, do it somewhere else bub.
Next on the chopping block-annual performance reviews. Most companies now use the painful and convoluted performance review to eliminate any chance of getting a raise. If applying for a job at DeathBecomesMe Corp., know that you may or may not get a yearly raise. If that's not good enough for you, sod off.
*Any instances of Microsoft SharePoint will be napalmed into fucking oblivion. If you love SharePoint, go waste your life away somewhere else.
So, there you have it. DeathBecomesMe Corp.: "We Won't Make You Want to Commit Suicide."