This is great!
"I just met this chick in a bar last night. She dragged me back to her place, snorted blow off my forehead, popped a viagra in my mouth, and nearly killed me with the sexual. While I was recovering and she was in the john her cell started ringing. I glanced at it. Name said PaPa Sugarcane, but the number was the Director's office number. I double checked to be sure and got the fuck out! He wasn't in today."
(I know it's a lot, and I have complete faith in your documented ability to proforma motivate in tandem with swift rising, asymetrical market demands! Your achievement is my goal.)
At a privately-operated imbibement center overnight I established networking ties with a representative of the opposite gender department. After exchanging contact information and resumes, she proceeded to consume a first-order tropane alkaloid from my glabella, administered a dose of sildenafil orally, and then we actualized an anatomical transfer give and take session which nearly resulted in complete biological incapacitance. Afterward as the distinguished representative was consuming lavatory services and I was recharging for further research, I noticed her cell phone ringing. Upon closer inspection the Caller ID alluded to one "PaPa Sugarcane." Curiously, however, the telephone number displayed matched that of the Director's office phone. After confirming this actuality, I made the executive decision that it would be best to immediately separate myself from the situation and did so. Today, the Director does not appear to be in the office.