Damn Überlords

The Dark Überlord has a really, intensely irritating laugh. If you took a loud, boorish society matron and mated her with a horse, then tickled the ass of the resulting spawn, with a feather, that’s exactly the sound you’d get.

He also overuses this obscene guffaw in his many quests to be “one of the guys”. He’s in his 50s but likes to think he’s still a frat boy with his curse words, his schmoozing, his corporate lunches with clients where he tells appalling jokes and laughs at them with that laugh.

Yesterday, while walking out of his office, he ripped a giant fart then had a jolly good wheeze at it. I mean, I know farts are funny. I laugh at mine all the time – they are high-fucking-larious, but really, not in an office environment. Not in the corridor where several people can bear witness to your gassy bowels. He also lets out these enormous belches fairly frequently and mutters to himself. Once I heard him joking with his son on the phone about whether or not his son was “getting some”. I doubt they were talking about chocolate. It’s bizarre to me because people are always saying to me “Oh you work for The Dark Überlord, he’s so nice!”

No. No he isn’t. He’s only nice if you don’t know him. He’s a schmoozer. He’s phony. He’s a faux nice guy. He’s a player. With a loud, witchy laugh.

Therefore, it’s some sort of divine intervention when he waltzes out of his office all smarmy and cocky, trips over his shoelace, does an unintentionally fine rendition of a seven year old girl at a ballet recital and flies arse-over-tit onto the floor.

I laughed and laughed. See, THAT, Dark Überlord, is appropriate office humor!

I just got through a whole entry without mentioning V-Day. I deserve an award.