I will Never Worry About Blog Post Material Again: PQOTC

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Also, I am a motherfucking genius.

I have moments when I’m positive that I’ve run out of things to say and I’ll never write another blog post. I hate those days. They scare me because I’m not done here. I like this.

I love this.

Still, I have moments when I’m sure I’ve dried up.

It occurred to me, after swilling cough syrup for days, that I have a comedic gold mine in front of me. It’s been in front of me for years. 

I have a friend at work who I instant message with every day. Many times. This is how we are able to get through our days. She is fucking hilarious. Brilliant even.

Sometimes our conversations have been just silly. For instance, today the word ‘poopyhead’ was used. We aren’t overly sophisticated. Other days, we’re fucking genius. I can’t tell you how often I’m trying to cover up snort with a cough or a yawn.

Working in cubicles is hard, y’all.

I could save these conversations and never run out of things to write about.

Then it dawned on me. This is a good idea, but I could make it so much better. I can tell my work friend that I’m going to start saving all of our conversations to blog about and that she has to be funny.

She will say boatloads of hilarious and awkward things. She will also probably call me a cunt or a dickhole for putting her on the spot.

I can’t wait for this. It’s gonna be great.

What is great about this is I would never identify her, so no one will know her name or who she is, yet I will get the credit for writing the blog post. I think I will name her Priscilla, Queen of the cubicles.

Here’s a sample:

Priscilla, Queen of the cubicle: I broke my fucking taco.

PQOTC: A real one..not the other one.

Me: HAHAHAH

PQOTC: I thought you might get confused.

Me: Good thing you have a gynecologist appointment. I dare you to go in and say “I broke my taco”.

PQOTC: lmfao. I’m totally going to thin kit.

Me: Thinning kit is what we should all do before going to the gynecologist.

Please don’t try to understand these conversations. They rarely make sense. Next time I will tell you all how we ended up talking about ‘second hand ass cancer’.

Edited: I just told her this post is up and she said: Broken Taco would be my Indian name.

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