People with boundary issues suck.

Sometimes I want to turn hermit and go live in a cave and never have to see another soul ever again. There is a handful of people at work who have absolutely no personal or professional boundaries, and I want to punch each of them in the back of the head. This one's for you bitches, and you know who you are.

Stay the hell out of my desk. Do not take my pens or highlighters. Do not open up another pack of my pop-up post-its, tear a bunch off, and then try to stick them back together and put them back in my drawer. I hope you choke on the peanut M&Ms you stole out of my bottom drawer last weekend. It just blows me away that I have to hide my good pens/highlighters/post-its/food/nail files/lipstick/lotion in a top-secret spot so you won't steal them. What the hell is wrong with you? Are you twelve years old or what? No, I don't give a shit that you lost all your crappy bic pens. Go to the business office and get some more, jackass. You are not using the big green coolass Aricept pen with the gel grip that I got from the drug rep. Bite me.

I'm your supervisor, dammit! When I ask you to do something, get up off your ass and do it. Not whenever you feel like it... NOW. It's not your break time, you aren't busy, so MOVE YOUR ASS. Don't make me ask you twice. When I tell you not to leave the charting books or service schedules in the dining room, STOP DOING IT. The next time I find that book in the dining room, I swear on everything that's holy that I'm going to shove it up your ass. When I ask you to change the way you chart because you're doing it incorrectly, don't sit down where I can see you and continue to chart in your halfassed, corner-cutting way. Stop making retarded, common sense mistakes. Gee, someone used Friday's 8am pill and it's only Tuesday. Hmmmm... you signed for all the meds you gave except ONE. Which you obviously gave. You used SCOTCH FUCKING TAPE to bandage a wound. You sat in the dining room during lunch and bellowed a gross story about your period to the other aide, in front of the residents. You should not be working in a healthcare setting. You should be wearing a hockey helmet and protective mittens and be licking the windows on the short bus.

Did you really just ask me how big my boyfriend's dick is???? Seriously, I'm speechless. And speechless is something I rarely am. No, I'm not going to go with you into the break room and show you my bra. And no, I don't want to see yours. I don't give a crap what it looks like, where you got it, or what size it is. I am not going to give you all the juicy details of my sex life, and I don't want to know anything about yours. Just the fact that you're getting sex grosses me out. And, whoever he is, he must be blind, deaf and have no sense of smell.

And you: back the hell away from me. You have zero sense of personal space, and I absolutely loathe close talkers. Oh my god, I think you just spit in my eye. You need to stay at least an arm's length away from me. Here, let me stick out my arm to demonstrate. Oh, gee, I'm sorry... maybe I should've told you that that arm has a little pink fist at the end of it with a huge diamond ring, and that it's aimed at your too-close face.

Okay, now I feel better.

Go ahead, judge me for my evilicious nature. Like I really care. Go wipe someone's ass and shut the hell up.