I Am The Repeated Story About Jack's Pubic Hair

At this point I do not know what the fuck to say about anything here. Not only was the HR person here again (she just left), she brought her (and by extension her brothers, the owners) mother with her. And sure enough, as soon as Jim left the conversation went to the son's / grandson's pubic hair...

On a side note, if I ever even THOUGHT that my grandmother was talking to people about my growing pubic hair, let alone sitting in a PLACE OF BUSINESS laughing and joking about it, I would probably have disowned her. Full stop.

So anyway, for reasons that I cannot fully comprehend (other than that the HR person has the worst concept of "acceptable workplace conversations" EVER, the next thing I know the HR person, her mother, Shanelle, and MARGARET (aka Gaza Strip Club and Moms Mabley respectively, but at this point I am too disgusted by this damn place to give a shit about cute nicknames and if anyone complains I think I have one hell of a counter argument) are all talking about sex toys, their favorites, their hiding places, professing their love for them, and to top it all off, talking about going to the sex shop and trying them on / modeling them for each other (in the case of HR and mom).

Really? THAT is okay? Fine. I am getting out of here with the quickness, and I will accept pretty much any job that allows me to stop working here. But until that sweet day arrives, I am going to live by their rules. If they don't like hearing about my jock itch or ball sweat once the summer hits, that is just too fucking bad. In fact, I am thinking about cultivating a nice case of jock itch JUST so I can talk about it.

Put your tough actin' Tinactin on THIS, bitches.