My job is so fucking unbelievable. I'll try to sum it up by first telling you about the folks I work with:

First, there is this supermodel wanna-be chick. Yeah, okay, she is pretty hot, but damn is she completely useless.
The girl is constantly fixing her hair or putting on make-up.
She is extremely self-centred and has never once considered the needs or wants of anyone but herself.
She is as dumb as a box of rocks, and I still find it surprising that she has en [...]

My job is so fucking unbelievable. I'll try to sum it up by first telling you about the folks I work with:

First, there is this supermodel wanna-be chick. Yeah, okay, she is pretty hot, but damn is she completely useless.
The girl is constantly fixing her hair or putting on make-up.
She is extremely self-centred and has never once considered the needs or wants of anyone but herself.
She is as dumb as a box of rocks, and I still find it surprising that she has enough brain power to continue to breathe.

The next chick is completely the opposite. She might even be one of the smartest people on the planet.
Her career opportunities are endless, and yet she is here with us. She is a zero on a scale of 1 to 10.
I'm not sure she even showers, much less shaves her "womanly" parts.
I think she might be a lesbian, because every time we drive by the hardware store she moans like a cat in heat.

But the jewel of the crowd has got to be the fucking stoner. And this guy is more than just your average pothead.
In fact, he is baked before he comes to work, during work, and I'm sure after work.
He probably hasn't been sober any time in the last ten years, and he's only 22.
He dresses like a beatnik throwback from the 1960's, and to make things worse, he brings his big fucking dog to work.
Every fucking day I have to look at this huge Great Dane walk around half-stoned from the second-hand smoke.
Hell, sometimes I even think it's trying to talk with its constant bellowing.
Also, both of them are constantly hungry, requiring multiple stops to McDonald's and Burger King, every single fucking day.

Anyway, I drive these fucktards around in my van and we solve mysteries and shit.

So picture the scene, if you will. Katie Price has just arrived home from the jungle, having been voted to do every bushtucker trial only to be kicked out first chance we got.

She arrives home to find her house in darkness. After turning the light on, she spies a note on the table:
"Dear Katie. I've taken the kids. Love, Peter."

She notices a tapping sound from across the house, and as she heads toward it she spies something written on the back:
[...]

So picture the scene, if you will. Katie Price has just arrived home from the jungle, having been voted to do every bushtucker trial only to be kicked out first chance we got.

She arrives home to find her house in darkness. After turning the light on, she spies a note on the table:
"Dear Katie. I've taken the kids. Love, Peter."

She notices a tapping sound from across the house, and as she heads toward it she spies something written on the back:
"Except the mong." it says, as she finds Harvey bumping into a wall repeatedly.

Do it, Peter. Fucking do it.