This fucking thing scares me.
Back to work this year and I discover the installation of this insidious little device in the staff bathroom. Looks like maybe one of those newfangled smoke detectors that picks up carbon monoxide and excess cow fart in the air, hmmmm? But what about that little porthole, just below a digital read-out of some sort... not quite a clock, more like what you'd find on a timed explosive. Fuck! Red wire? No, green wire! Cut the green wire before you cut the red one or pshhhhhhttttt!
Too late. A face full of jellybean fruit basket air freshener. In a saccharine cloud so thick you can taste it on your lips. Brings tears to my eyes. Literally.
Be less cataclysmic if it worked like one of the waterfront pay toilets that hose themselves down after the patron has safely exited. This fucking time bomb can apparently go off anytime, for any reason, with absolutely no regard for who is using the facilities at the time. I pee with one eye squarely, nervously monitoring the evil squirt at all times. No more leisurely set-a-spells in the crapper. It's a fucking hot potato piss-n-go now chums.
Plus, after walking out with my camera in hand, I now have to quell all the rumors that I uploaded a pic to ratemypoo.com. I don't even know why I have any knowledge of that site's existence. But it does exist, and it's further proof that some shit on the internet is really, just... well just fucking shit.
I'm tired and overworked! So fucking exhausted! This has been a rough one, friends... thank God for the three-day weekend. A little Art & Soul, a ten-miler on the waterfront, and a boat party on the American River. All cures for potential early burnout. Not to mention Ted Leo next week. My brother will be in town for two weeks. All things to look forward to.
What are you doing for the long weekend?
Back to work this year and I discover the installation of this insidious little device in the staff bathroom. Looks like maybe one of those newfangled smoke detectors that picks up carbon monoxide and excess cow fart in the air, hmmmm? But what about that little porthole, just below a digital read-out of some sort... not quite a clock, more like what you'd find on a timed explosive. Fuck! Red wire? No, green wire! Cut the green wire before you cut the red one or pshhhhhhttttt!
Too late. A face full of jellybean fruit basket air freshener. In a saccharine cloud so thick you can taste it on your lips. Brings tears to my eyes. Literally.
Be less cataclysmic if it worked like one of the waterfront pay toilets that hose themselves down after the patron has safely exited. This fucking time bomb can apparently go off anytime, for any reason, with absolutely no regard for who is using the facilities at the time. I pee with one eye squarely, nervously monitoring the evil squirt at all times. No more leisurely set-a-spells in the crapper. It's a fucking hot potato piss-n-go now chums.
Plus, after walking out with my camera in hand, I now have to quell all the rumors that I uploaded a pic to ratemypoo.com. I don't even know why I have any knowledge of that site's existence. But it does exist, and it's further proof that some shit on the internet is really, just... well just fucking shit.
I'm tired and overworked! So fucking exhausted! This has been a rough one, friends... thank God for the three-day weekend. A little Art & Soul, a ten-miler on the waterfront, and a boat party on the American River. All cures for potential early burnout. Not to mention Ted Leo next week. My brother will be in town for two weeks. All things to look forward to.
What are you doing for the long weekend?
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In the meantime congratulations on taking yer birthday by the wrinklies and persuading it toward the path of excellence.