I’m horrifyingly allergic to seafood, all forms. If it’s not fish and it’s from the ocean, chances are I can’t eat it. My allergy is so severe that, even if it’s only the juice that touches my skin, I break out in hives. Just the smell, depending on how strong and how close, can physically debilitate me. You want to stop Ryan cold? Throw shrimp juice at him.

Everyone I work with understands my allergy. They’ve dealt with it for years. I avoid functions that are thrown at Asian restaurants. Tend to leave the room if someone brings in crab. Sh*t like that. This one chick decides to get seafood jambalaya for lunch today. I’m not going to tell her otherwise, free country. But, instead of taking her plate to the break room, chick just starts in at her desk. I am literally choking back vomit right now because she is not even six feet away from me. Shallow breaths, man. Every time I inhale, it’s a battle between my queasy ass stomach and my aversion to throwing up.

We talked about my allergy a week ago. Chick is suppose to be my supervisor. Way to lead, you f*ck!

number one picks in seven years? really, Cleveland? Really, Stern? The fix is in!