Just thoughts, dripping from my brain and out of my mouth like trash juice from a worn-out dumpster. Commence the babbling.
- A good friend of mine took great pleasure in sarcastically referring to her douchebag of a supervisor as "Boss". I've taken this to it's logical confusion and only address my boss as "Godfather", "Skipper" or "Comandante". You would not believe what this has done for my attitude.
- Tomorrow, in lieu of my usual work duties, I will be house sitting as movers clear out an apartment. According to my boss, I'm there to stop them from stealing anything. You read that correctly, I am supposed to stop people whose job it is to remove everything from a home and load it into a truck from stealing anything. I may need to do some research.
- On the sunny side of things, one of my co-workers bought a pound of Jelly-Bellys for the office. I love them more than just about any other candy. However, as a warning to the overly ambitious, licorice + watermelon + bubblegum tastes like (and likely is) poison.
- I woke up a tad inebriated this morning and took a couple of muscle relaxers because apparently, my unconscious self is incredibly comfortable in the piledriver position. This combination does not lend itself to combination. I stumbled my way to the cafeteria in hopes that some good ol' Cuban coffee would cure my case of Gumby legs. On my third wobble into the cafe gravity took its toll on me and my back made good friends with the floor. The cafeteria ladies, being quite fond of me, blamed themselves and the fact that the floor was slightly moist instead of coming to the conclusion that I was zonked out of my mind (note: zonked makes it through spell-check). This resulted in a free cup of the coffee I so desperately craved. It did nothing for my coordination, but wonders for my mood.
- When having to tear a lot of perforated paper, I've begun imaging the sheet as a demon that I am rending in half with my bare hands. I should probably mention these things to a professional.
- Last point, I just today realized that all the places I send mail to have mail rooms. That means that some poor soul out there has to decipher the Picassoesque hieroglyphics I hastily scrawl on the outgoing envelopes. If I ever meet a mail room worker, I'm buying a tall, strong and expensive one, lord knows he's earned it.
More thoughts to come, thanks for reading!
About Me
- whydoihavetheinternet
- Miami, Florida, United States
- Every time I eat whole fish I fear for days that I have swallowed a bone. Perhaps my abdomen is absolutely lousy with them, I would have no idea. Thanks for coming and remember to take off your shoes before coming into the living room, I'm quite fond of the carpet.
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