"So, What Do You Do?"

Dear little 2012 dew droplets--

There are two kinds of people in the world: those who are good at idle chit-chat and those who aren't. (And, yes, those are the ONLY two types of people. In the world. No others, so don't even bother checking.)

Those who are good at it know just how to ask questions that will make the most boring motherfucker on earth anyone seem interesting, and they know how to answer questions in the same way. Those who are not good at it prefer get hammered and avoid idle shit-shat at all costs. (See ya at the bar, dicks.)

The worst idle shit-shat question is "So, what do you do?" Here's why. There are two kinds of people in the world: those who take their jobs seriously and those who don't--even if they have a serious job.

The ones who take their jobs seriously use the term "networking" without irony. The ones who don't use the term as joke punchlines. Networking is like peeing--you can't do it on command. It's like saying, "Make friends--NOW!" Such bullshit.

Luckily for you and me, there are two kinds of people in the world: those who have vanity plates and those who don't. And SOMETIMES, those who have vanity plates go to parties and make idle shit-shat with those who take their jobs seriously, then they get drunk and have sex in a closet married and have children, and their offspring have vanity plates about their jobs.

Don't believe me? Looky here: a couple of teachers put down their red grading pens long enough to get it on:

And a couple of MATH TEACHERS decided to MULTIPLY (ba-dum-CHING!):

 Here's the result of marketing teachers who humped:

And a couple of insurance salespeople ran their numbers, made a calculated risk, and rubbed up against each other in a linen closet:

Here we have the result of a couple of health care workers who got sick of talking about catheters and bed pans:

And here's the result of a couple of fucking lawyers. See what I did there? Fucking? Lawyers? On a roll, kids. (In case you can't tell, the plate has someone's initials, followed by "ESQ," the douche.)

Here we see evidence that a couple of accountants put down their calculators, hit it, toweled off, and then got right back to their spreadsheets:

  

 And a couple of drug dealers pharmacists decided to reproduce:

And here's proof that a gaggle of realtors rolled up to a realty convention (ugh--can you imagine the levels of pure fuckery???) in their luxury vehicles (because that's all realtors drive, the dicks), made idle shit-shat about their vanity plates (because they all have them, the pricks) and then humped. The results?



Finally, to show that dumbasses really do walk among us and reproduce, it looks like the two worst intel officers in the world managed to fuck up and have a daughter. Real slick (License plate: DIA GRL):

And a big Sweet Tea thank you goes out to the lovely and talented Nikolas, who was dedicated enough to ride right up on DIA GRL's dumb ass. Thanks, Nikolas!