what the...

ok, so I am at work... and just farting around while I'm passing lunch out (from mcdonalds yum). one of the new guys at work (picture: head honcho warehouse production manager guy who is slightly overweight but wears top-of-the-line clothes so people overlook the large amount of armani hanging over his gucci belt and also has a babyface so people are automatically drawn to him and want to pinch him) is hanging out waiting to speak with my boss. I'm trying to be friendly so I ask if he is a dog person. after he finished looking at me like I had twenty-seven heads, he says that yeah, he prefers dogs. I said how about taking a look at my puppy. [side note: the picture below is the picture that is on my work computer's desktop. everyone who has seen it has fallen in love with a twelve week old puppy]. he says ok. I bring him over and he stares at it and says, "why does it have clothes on?" I said, "it's just a shirt. it's cute." at that point I have decided that I no longer wish to know this person and that he can burn in hell for all I care for making a comment that didn't consist of "cute", "awwwww", "adorable", or any other form of admiration in reference to my puppy. so then he obviously feels as though he needs to redeem himself so he makes a comment like, "oh well, he's a pug? yeah, he's, ah, a cute dog." ok buddy. seriously. take a hike. I want nothing to do with you. so then I got my stuff and walked away into the other room to eat my doublecheese in peace. and hopefully his bowser-hating ass will never step foot in my cubicle again. punk.