Can You Help Me Seduce The Lard-Assed Director Of...

1. You know who I’m talking about, right? I’m talking about the person who always sloshes through the office, confirming minute after minute that all our systems are adequate. I just take one look at that slop heap and I am spinning right into the void with lust. What can I say to win a kiss from our gigantic mainframe maven?: Congratulate the director on managing to rapidly input computer commands with such a greased-out keyboard; Congratulate the director on knowing thousands of trivia nuggets about the women’s suffrage movement; Suggestively remark that there must be 10,000 apple cores littering the floor of the lard-assed director’s office; Subtly compliment the lard-assed director on achieving such a physique; Make a big show of complimenting the lard-assed director on achieving such a physique

2. Each morning, the lard-assed director of technology brings in a thermos flask, puts it on the main desk in the comp room, and sips on it throughout the day. Should I break the ice by asking to try it?: You should ask to try it, because I suspect it is full of nutritious syrups; You should ask to try it, because I suspect it contains a soupy mix of meat and bones; You should ask to try it, even though I know for a fact that it is full of melted leather; You should play it cool and leave the director be

3. Oh, I’m head-and-heels crazy for this lard-assed director! Wild, wild, wild, wild. How can I help it when I can hear those bountiful fingers thundering out wonderful keyboard commands all day? How can I resist the way that shy-sweet titan sloshes through our office? For Christ’s sake, what love song do you think plays in my head when such a gorgeous person goes tumbling past my desk in one of those see-through patrol spheres?: I think Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” plays in your head when you see the lard-assed director rolling around in the patrol sphere; I think Miles Davis’ “Freddie Freeloader” plays in your head when you see that expansive mess getting a move on in the patrol sphere; I think the national anthem plays in your head when you see the director of technology charging around in that tantalizing patrol sphere; I think Rage Against The Machine’s “Bulls On Parade” plays in your head when you see the roguish lard-assed director barely in control of the patrol sphere; I think several good remixes of each of these songs play in your head at the same time whenever the lard-assed director caroms like a pinball from desk to desk wearing only that form-fitting patrol sphere

4. Do you think the lard-assed director of technology is the kind of person I simply need to approach with supreme confidence?: Yes, the director is exactly that kind of person; you should go and introduce yourself to the director as God; No, the director is not that kind of person at all; in fact, you should just stand within earshot and repeatedly say out loud that you are so stupid

5. Last week, when the lard-assed director took an unannounced hiatus and was replaced temporarily by a wretched impostor, do you maybe think I cried and cried? Of course I did!: Okay; I believe you

6. If I ever get up the nerve to talk to the lard-assed director of technology, should I address my beloved as something besides “the lard-assed director of technology”?: You should call the director “the big beautiful butterball”; You should call the director “the hulking pile”; You should call the director “the corpus”; You should call the director “the lonely director of technology?” and then raise your eyebrows questioningly; No, you should keep using that same name, “the lard-assed director of technology”

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