The Leech

Ah, the leech! Men get bitten by her every day - willingly!

"Can you help me with this...?"

"Would you do me a favor...?"

"I just wondered if you would...?"

And the general pussified man's reaction is:

"Sure! (Maybe I'll get laid!)"

Fuckin' laughable, these maggots.

You maggots wanna get laid? Two hundred bucks, I fucking guarantee that you'll get laid.

With a bit more skilled pussy than that cunt.

One that's almost certainly better-looking.

With less chance of STDs, too.

The worst part though, is when some self-entitled cunt pulls this at work.

Once? Yeah, okay. Just so that the business keeps going. Once.

Twice? Maaaaybe. If you're feeling in a really good mood. (No, you're not going to get to fuck her, you pathetic maggot you. Also remember: don't shit where you eat.)

Three-four-more times? Fuck no. Especially if it's every fucking day - FUCK NO!!!

This is where you should have been a little more proactive. By this point you should have been saying stuff like: "Sorry. Something really urgent has come up."

Cunt doesn't need to know that the something really urgent is actually: "I'm not doing your fucking shit job for you in addition to my own. Fuck off." Or that you'd prefer to pick your nose (getting the nasal cavities really clean is extremely fucking important). Or go have a dump (a massive bowel movement is of more importance and pleasure than her pathetic helplessness or whatever fucking excuse she's dreamed up this time).

Just about anything is better than doing her fucking job for her.

To really nip this shit in the bud though, you need to go to management and tell them what's happening. Then say: "Once? Oookay. Twice? Hmmmmm.... But three, four, five times? Something's wrong, you need to look into this."

'Cause if you don't nip that shit in the bud, what's going to happen is that you're going to be doing that cunts' work for her while she's: bitching to her co-workers/bitching about her co-workers/bitching about her frenemies/bitching about her boyfriend/making plans for tonight/making plans for her holidays/making plans for whatever. On top of that: painting her nails/messing with her hair/putting on makeup/sexting her latest Chad.

(What, you thought you were going to nail that pussy? Wake up you pathetic fucking maggot.)

A lot of pathetic maggots will let it get to this stage. Heh. They're fucked. They try to unfuck it, cue screaming shit-fits as that entitled cunt causes massive problems.

Because by now, it is very firmly entrenched in that entitled cunts' head that she can call *anyone* to give her a hand. Cue whining to HR that "this has become a hostile environment" and "I no longer feel safe with so-and-so" and "he's become toxic" and etc. Good luck with that sixteen tons of shit!

Or you can start right from the fucking beginning. Don't let the leech get her fucking teeth into you at all.

Brought to you by Crap Colored Glasses™ and a talk with an idiot pussy acquaintance who let this happen to him recently. Fucktard. (Full of lame excuses too. Fuck I hate that! Why do these pathetic maggots have a million lame excuses for their maggotness?)

Warning Label

There's an old saying: "She should come with a warning label."

Thankfully, many girls actually do. Better, they voluntarily put on those labels just for you'n'me. You see it all the time, you know the type of thing:

"If you can't handle me at my worst, you sure don't deserve me at my best." (You have no best.)

"I should come with a warning label." (No shit.)

"A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle." (Fish have no legs to use a bicycle. Bleakly and ironically literal, actually.)

And of course, there's the usual red-flags that the halfway sensible man will pick up in a heartbeat and run like fuck away from.

A couple of days ago I was driving home after work and ran across an exceptionally well-labelled example:

* number-plate that said something along the lines of "meeeeee!" (Not the exact plate, you get the idea though - got to love personalized plates.)

* decal on the bumper that said "cute but psycho" (Actually said that.)

* a stick-figure family showing one child and one girl with a bunch of shopping-baskets (Single-mommy shopaholic warning. Not even a pet cat.)

We just have to thank these girls. They show every single reason to stay the fuck away from them, totally unmistakably. Just keep your eyes open for it, they're always there.

An amused look through Crap-Colored Glasses™, only $1k the pair and cheap at 10x the price.

Symptoms of Cotton Wool

It's kinda humorous actually. So lets go look at Google's "Web Security" team, courtesy of Wired magazine:

Google's Chrome Hackers Are About To Upend Your Idea Of Web Security

Very first thing on the page is a photo of four chicks.

Oh yeah. Welcome to the world of cotton-wool.

So okay, the gist of it is: these four chicks want non-secure websites to come up in Chrome with the message: "Not Secure". Which is a pretty-good idea actually, for their stated purpose of attempting to push the WWW to use HTTPS instead of open HTTP traffic.

Where it all falls down though, is three simple words: "transparent https proxy".

We have one at work. Even when connecting to my bank to signin and do transfers, etc - even though it shows a padlock, as being secure - my work can see exactly what I'm doing, exactly what the passwords are, exactly every-bloody-thing.

My work is a man-in-the-middle attack in action, every second of the day, if they want to be.

Think that the ISPs aren't? Or couldn't be, if they wanted to?

Go ahead, womyn. Try to swathe the world in cotton wool.

You have already failed.