In high school you've got jocks, geeks, stoners, prom queens, fat kids, and so on and so forth.  The working world is no different.  You've got "Chads" (the good-looking hot shots that always get their way), geeks (IT dept.), lazy overweight managers (the fat kids grown up), office queens (the hotties everyone wants to bang), pranksters, gossips, and so on and so forth.

What am I, you ask?

Why, I'm the Office Farter.  It's a pleasure to meet you.

My body (more specifically, my ass) has the
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I remember from high school history class that a key advantage we Americans had over the British during the American Revolution was that the British simply didn't know who to shoot.  The American rebels all looked like farmers, and farmers looked like nonthreatening civilians.  The British forces, on the other hand, were clad in bright red wool uniforms (“The Red Coats”), making it blatantly obvious that they were the bad guys.  They might as well have been wearing red and white target circles on their chests with sandwich-board signs proudly declaring, “We're the bad guys!  Shoot at us!”

My country hasn't really
I'm far from being a shopaholic, but I definitely have a weak spot for electronic toys.  I've made quite a number of dumb purchases in my life (most often electronics), but these particular ones reverberate in my wistful memories.  Thank God for Ebay!

The Cotton Candy Machine
I once beheld a home cotton candy machine for sale in a catalog specializing mostly in useless, single-purpose home appliances.  I just had to have it.  This purchase would change my entire life--friends would flock to my lively cotton candy parties, and princess-like model-esque girls would swoon at the sugary goodness served by yours truly.

My ultimate goal was to put my arm into the machine and encase it in cotton candy.  Unknown at the time was the
My body has an odd characteristic.

Everything I touch seems to turn brown:
* Any white bath towel I use turns brown after a few weeks of use.  Only a hard-core wash in steaming hot water and kitchen bleach will get the brown out.  I call this a "treatment."
* The armpits of my white underwear shirts turn brown despite
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I'm so bummed because Facebook doesn't have a satisfying reject button to deny friend requests.  They only have an "ignore" button.  The closest I can get is to block the person and report them as a spammer.  That sounds a tad excessive, though.

I guess the only satisfaction I can get is to maintain my zero friends profile.  Another idea I had was to accept them as friends only to later delete them.  They would be fooled into thinking I accepted their request only to find that I negated our relationship just minutes later.  I really hope Facebook could accurately communicate that transaction via email notifications. 

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