Sensitivity Training

My crime: Spittin' it like it is. My time: A week in workplace sensitivity training. I know, right? A whole fucking week being told how friggin' terrible I am and how much better fags in sweaters are than me. Jesus Christ, I hate political correctness.

Let me begin my aria from the top, shall I? I was bagging for this woman (some old, hyper-sensitive slut; she probably gave Fonzie the clap) and discussing Grand Theft Auto: Chinatown Wars with my friend 'Fattie'. 'Fattie' brings up his fetish for pregnant women, and I can tell that little old bitch is not having it. I mean, I'll admit that the first time 'Fattie' told me he really fuckin' loved preggos, I was put right the fuck off. However, I've gotten to know the man during my tenure at the grocery store, and as such, am used to the inopportune times at which 'Fattie' will bring up his fetishes.

I could see, however, that the battleaxe was about to shit a fuckin' brick, so I jumped in with an expert ice breaker. "I think old chicks are hot," I said, winking at the old lady. "Big, saggy boobs like pillowcases full o' cake batter... that's what I want!" You see, I figured telling this woman she was sexually attractive would get her mind off of Fattie's open discussion of his sexual desires. Not so! In fact, dear readers, it opened a whole other can of worms. Or rather, if you will, a can of old lady menstruation.

As the bitch started screaming about how offended she was, I eyed the line behind her. Nobody had batted an eyelash at 'Fattie' and his hard-on for bunned-ovens, but now everyone was staring straight at me for trying to pick up a GMILF whilst on the clock. Well excuuuuuuse me!

I took hold of the situation with both hands. Then the old lady slapped me and told me never to grab her boobs again. So I calmly explained to her that her behavior was getting irritating, borderline infuriating, and that if she was going to continue bleeding out her vadge all over the place, I would have to ask her to leave. That's when the old hag just went apeshit! Suddenly she demanded to see my superior. I had to think fast. So I went to the bathroom and made a makeshift fake moustache out of wet toilet paper. I emerged in the perfect disguise. No way could this crusty hoe tell me from Adam. I decided right then and there that I didn't care what anyone said, eating cherry pull-off Twizzlers doesn't make you gay. Then, I went back to that old lady and spat my game...

Needless to say my boss was there, and he didn't like my disguise. The old lady... well, I won't even honor what she said to me by repeating it here (it wasn't very lady-like, you fuckin' whore). But long story short, I'm on my boss' shit list and have to go to sensitivity training for some reason. I mean, I wasn't being insensitive. I would say that given how much I cried while my boss berated me in front of my own grandmother would prove how sensitive I really am.