*** 529 DAYS REMAIN ***
*** TODAY'S PUZZLE ***
REMAIN LEAVE ACHY YOU AND ME
The first person to post the answer wins three points, some soymilk, and crabs
*** END OF TODAY'S PUZZLE ***
Geez...life kind of comes in waves, doesn't it? After weeks of living relatively mundanely. the stuffgates open and suddenly it becomes complicated just to remember what day it is. Can I even put this stuff in chronological order? Probably not. But I'll try.
First off, that ole douchepump, Dipshit McFuckybutt, met his coffee doom a few days ago, when he was terminated. Incompetence, antagonistic tendencies, and downright bizarre bathroom practices aside, he'll be missed -- in much the same way I would imagine a healthy outpatient misses those golf-ball-sized gallstones that caused such horrific peetorture in the night. Well Dippy, if you are reading (which you're not because you don't know what a goddamned sequin is, so how can you possibly operate a mouse and keyboard?) I'd just like to say:
"Good riddance and seriously, go fuck yourself. You won't be missed by me or any of your other co-workers. If you want to make 9-11 jokes, now you can do it somewhere else. If you want to make judgmental commentary on the relationships of others, now you can do so whenever you want. And hey, if you want a cappucino, just eat six burritos, wait twelve hours, and defectate into a pre-heated six-ounce cup -- because no joke Dippy, that's the quality of every product that your nimrodded mitts ever came into contact with. Oh and while we're at it -- don't go around freaking out how bad your hair looks because you are FREAKING BALD, YOU MORON! You don't have hair!!!! You don't need a comb beacuse you DON'T HAVE A SINGLE HAIR ON YOUR HEAD!!!! And go ahead and play the race card in unemployment court like you did with me when I tried to find out why you were so angry at work all the time (because, at one time, I actually DID care) -- it won't take long to prove that you were canned for several dozen cock-ups of friggin' monumental ineptitude. Next time someone decides to give you a chance, try not to blow it by being an absolute dinkus to everyone in a twenty-foot radius. You'll probably screw up again though, and believe me I mean it when I say that you will most certainly never have consentual relations with a woman that you aren't paying for."
Ok, so Dippy's gone -- but not forgotten. Geez, if nothing else, that mincing dandy has given me so much freakin' material to work with. Yikes. It's almost scary.
Hmmm. I was going to write something here. It was going to be about work. Then I realized....I sure do talk about work a lot, don't I? I'm starting to feel like it's my job that is defining me more than my emotions, deeds, hobbies, relationships, and...you know...the other stuff that makes us WHO WE ARE. I ran into an old friend the other day, and we started talking about life's transitions and how we define oursleves differently based on where we are in life. Then she put me on the spot with this little quiz...she said: "say the first thing that comes into your head...no hesitations. In your life right now, what word do you feel describes you the most?" I immediately blurted out "Barista". That was kind of a shocker. It wasn't "brother" or "friend" or "gamer" or "ham" or "cynic" or "dreamer"....nope. I chose an occupation, a trade, to define myself. Not that I necessarlily think that's a bad thing, but I think that I'd rather be some (ok, all) of those other roles FIRST, and have my current profession take a more secondary role. But the fact is that that first, most prominent , almost overpowering instinct when she asked the question was a, well, blue-collar job was pretty darn off-putting. So I went to work my shift that day, all the while thinking about how completely plastered I was going to be nine hours from then.
So that would have been yesterday, yes? Well, two days ago technically, but you know -- wormholes and Stephen Hawking and whatnot. I'm still going to say yesterday. Ray Charles was just singing Yesterday in my living room. Actually, it was a recording of Ray Charles (not actually him since he's dead and there's not enough room in my apartment for a piano anyway). And yeah, it was the song "Yesterday" not the day yesterday cause yeah, it was actually just a few minutes ago. Regardless, he sings that song WAY better than those faggy Beatles. Whatever. Yesterday, I bussed to the SGSeattle Holiday Hell House Party in lovely White Center where two very nice gentlemen on the bus talked about nothing but hos' and sneakers for a good twenty minutes. Delightful! Desdenova is a charming host, to say the least, despite some crabapplous neighbors. Boo on you, neighbors, and your porn-hating ways! And shut your dog up! God! Granted, I can't hear as well today since someone stole my ears. What does that even mean, anyway? All I know is this: attempted tag-team corck blorck: falied.
Then I almost got into a fight today on the bus ride to work. Society has lost its manners. It's sad really.
AAAANNNNNDDDD.....I'm out of floss. Ah, crises...
I'm gonna post some pictures soon.
*** TODAY'S PUZZLE ***
REMAIN LEAVE ACHY YOU AND ME
The first person to post the answer wins three points, some soymilk, and crabs
*** END OF TODAY'S PUZZLE ***
Geez...life kind of comes in waves, doesn't it? After weeks of living relatively mundanely. the stuffgates open and suddenly it becomes complicated just to remember what day it is. Can I even put this stuff in chronological order? Probably not. But I'll try.
First off, that ole douchepump, Dipshit McFuckybutt, met his coffee doom a few days ago, when he was terminated. Incompetence, antagonistic tendencies, and downright bizarre bathroom practices aside, he'll be missed -- in much the same way I would imagine a healthy outpatient misses those golf-ball-sized gallstones that caused such horrific peetorture in the night. Well Dippy, if you are reading (which you're not because you don't know what a goddamned sequin is, so how can you possibly operate a mouse and keyboard?) I'd just like to say:
"Good riddance and seriously, go fuck yourself. You won't be missed by me or any of your other co-workers. If you want to make 9-11 jokes, now you can do it somewhere else. If you want to make judgmental commentary on the relationships of others, now you can do so whenever you want. And hey, if you want a cappucino, just eat six burritos, wait twelve hours, and defectate into a pre-heated six-ounce cup -- because no joke Dippy, that's the quality of every product that your nimrodded mitts ever came into contact with. Oh and while we're at it -- don't go around freaking out how bad your hair looks because you are FREAKING BALD, YOU MORON! You don't have hair!!!! You don't need a comb beacuse you DON'T HAVE A SINGLE HAIR ON YOUR HEAD!!!! And go ahead and play the race card in unemployment court like you did with me when I tried to find out why you were so angry at work all the time (because, at one time, I actually DID care) -- it won't take long to prove that you were canned for several dozen cock-ups of friggin' monumental ineptitude. Next time someone decides to give you a chance, try not to blow it by being an absolute dinkus to everyone in a twenty-foot radius. You'll probably screw up again though, and believe me I mean it when I say that you will most certainly never have consentual relations with a woman that you aren't paying for."
Ok, so Dippy's gone -- but not forgotten. Geez, if nothing else, that mincing dandy has given me so much freakin' material to work with. Yikes. It's almost scary.
Hmmm. I was going to write something here. It was going to be about work. Then I realized....I sure do talk about work a lot, don't I? I'm starting to feel like it's my job that is defining me more than my emotions, deeds, hobbies, relationships, and...you know...the other stuff that makes us WHO WE ARE. I ran into an old friend the other day, and we started talking about life's transitions and how we define oursleves differently based on where we are in life. Then she put me on the spot with this little quiz...she said: "say the first thing that comes into your head...no hesitations. In your life right now, what word do you feel describes you the most?" I immediately blurted out "Barista". That was kind of a shocker. It wasn't "brother" or "friend" or "gamer" or "ham" or "cynic" or "dreamer"....nope. I chose an occupation, a trade, to define myself. Not that I necessarlily think that's a bad thing, but I think that I'd rather be some (ok, all) of those other roles FIRST, and have my current profession take a more secondary role. But the fact is that that first, most prominent , almost overpowering instinct when she asked the question was a, well, blue-collar job was pretty darn off-putting. So I went to work my shift that day, all the while thinking about how completely plastered I was going to be nine hours from then.
So that would have been yesterday, yes? Well, two days ago technically, but you know -- wormholes and Stephen Hawking and whatnot. I'm still going to say yesterday. Ray Charles was just singing Yesterday in my living room. Actually, it was a recording of Ray Charles (not actually him since he's dead and there's not enough room in my apartment for a piano anyway). And yeah, it was the song "Yesterday" not the day yesterday cause yeah, it was actually just a few minutes ago. Regardless, he sings that song WAY better than those faggy Beatles. Whatever. Yesterday, I bussed to the SGSeattle Holiday Hell House Party in lovely White Center where two very nice gentlemen on the bus talked about nothing but hos' and sneakers for a good twenty minutes. Delightful! Desdenova is a charming host, to say the least, despite some crabapplous neighbors. Boo on you, neighbors, and your porn-hating ways! And shut your dog up! God! Granted, I can't hear as well today since someone stole my ears. What does that even mean, anyway? All I know is this: attempted tag-team corck blorck: falied.
Then I almost got into a fight today on the bus ride to work. Society has lost its manners. It's sad really.
AAAANNNNNDDDD.....I'm out of floss. Ah, crises...
I'm gonna post some pictures soon.
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xoxo