Somebody Punch Me, Please.

so I came into work this morning to find out that one of my subordinates is a male stripper. This is not all that unusual, except for one thing. Now that the proverbial cat is out of the bag, he feels compelled to tell us stories about the freak-nasty wenches he interacts with during the course of his job. And just in case you are under any other sort of illusion, let me lay your doubts to rest: these are not things that you want to hear out loud. Especially before 7am on a Monday morning.

<sigh>

Oh well. The upside is that this adds considerable fuel to the sarcastic inferno that burns continuously in my office, stoked by my latent anger and unfocused aggression. Score one for the good guys?