It's not me, it's you.

Sometimes in the name of being social, I will get up and wander around at work to make conversation with people. I figure in a building full of prison architects, there's bound to be a few worth fraternizing with.

No. Because of the state of the economy, I inevitably end up standing there listening to a white person/red-in the-face tirade about how Mexicans and single mothers are bleeding this country dry, and how if you aren't from here or you can't take care of yourself, you need to get the fuck out of our country. I stand there nodding until I develop a facial tick and politely excuse myself.

Where is it exactly that you think you came here from and how many chicks do you suppose you impregnated along the way, you Irish/Polish/Italian/English/German shitface? And you have the nerve to say this to me, knowing I look like the Land O Lakes butter chick (although I'm Scottish).

This is why I haven't had sex since grade school.