Yup, not a typo, I put my penis in your oatmeal. Most of you here. If you've ever bought oatmeal in Portland, chances are you have made contact with my penis. There is something warm and inviting about freshly made oatmeal, and when you are as bored at work as I am, oatmeal is warm and loving. The thought of my jackass anal-retentive sexist angry boss catching me, makes it all the more fun. You see, for the last week I've been wanting to quit this hell-hole. I am waiting for the day to see the bosses face when my boss walks in the kitchen and sees me with my co$k out of my pants, resting patiently on a bowl of warm oatmeal, bouncing around doing 'jumping jacks'. I will be holding a cup of coffee, smiling, and I will respond, "I'm on break! Permanent Break! Coffee?" grinning, I will count the number of seconds it takes for her to fire me and post it in the comment section.
I Put My Penis in Your Oatmeal
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