the strange planet inside my head
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are you effin' kidding me??
Dear lord: i have never been so grateful i'm not working a sunday check-out. i realize this is just a tiny crumb in the pile of stinking monkey poo in which i find myself, so please forgive me if i look at this as a sign or portent that things to come will be better. i understand this is no guarantee and i'm sure i'll be disabused of this notion soon enough, but for this brief moment of time i appreciate the illusion.
thank you.
****
we are full to bursting with the most motley crew you can imagine. we have older catholics bowling for jeezuz, we have a semi-younger crowd here for Tessla and Kid Rock. we have your rednecks for the Monster Truck Rally, and a couple of the work crews decided to stay for the weekend.
my floor is the party floor.
ten minutes ago two magoos decided to race desk chairs up and down the entire hallway. for what purpose, i know not -- and these are GROWN MEN. (you notice i said "grown" and not "mature".) i called one of the rooms and threatened a total floor evacuation with the assistance of the po-po, and things quieted to about the roar of a college crowd. i heard the girl come out and tell everyone, and one guy was most concerned because he has warrants.
they've already nabbed five DUI's from this parking lot, and it's barely 6PM.
i hate nights like this. HATE THEM.
Antonino is on tonight by himself for only the second time and i'm worried. he's got strict instructions to call the po-po and do some housecleaning if so necessary.
good gawd.
****
honestly, i sit and look at my life and wonder...how, in the wide, wide world of sports, did i end up here??
****
my digestive system hates me. it's a mutual hate/hate relationship. like all relationships, it requires communication and honesty.
DS: i hate you.
me: i know you do. i know why. but can't we call a truce?
DS: as long as you abuse me the way you do, we cannot negotiate.
me: look who's talking! everything i give you, you declare Not Good Enough, Not Enough, or you just plain kick it on up/down the pipe without a bye-your-leave. and why, may i ask, do you hit the Overdrive Button just as five people walk up to the desk to check in?
DS: coincidence. purely coincidence. you act as if this is all my fault, when clearly, it is totally yours.
me: what are you talking about? i hardly bother you at all!
DS: asswipe, (and i use the term with the greatest affection) Pepsi is not a food group, and it's not meant to be a nutritional supplement.
me: you really suck.
DS: furthermore, one meal or less a day is not cutting the mustard, either. come on! you're killing me. crackers? a half a baked potato? what's going on here?
me: talk to Appetite. she's gone AWOL and she's never done that before. believe me, without her, i got nuthin'. not to mention the hamsters dancing Riverdance in my tummy every time i think about....ech.
DS: you better get with it. you think this is bad, it could get a whole lot worse, trust me. tell Brain to get rid of those hamsters once and for all, or the whole she-bang is gonna go down the shitter. literally.
me: *sigh*
****
anybody know a hamster exterminator?
Check out TSB for the most legal fun you can have with your clothes on.
thank you.
****
we are full to bursting with the most motley crew you can imagine. we have older catholics bowling for jeezuz, we have a semi-younger crowd here for Tessla and Kid Rock. we have your rednecks for the Monster Truck Rally, and a couple of the work crews decided to stay for the weekend.
my floor is the party floor.
ten minutes ago two magoos decided to race desk chairs up and down the entire hallway. for what purpose, i know not -- and these are GROWN MEN. (you notice i said "grown" and not "mature".) i called one of the rooms and threatened a total floor evacuation with the assistance of the po-po, and things quieted to about the roar of a college crowd. i heard the girl come out and tell everyone, and one guy was most concerned because he has warrants.
they've already nabbed five DUI's from this parking lot, and it's barely 6PM.
i hate nights like this. HATE THEM.
Antonino is on tonight by himself for only the second time and i'm worried. he's got strict instructions to call the po-po and do some housecleaning if so necessary.
good gawd.
****
honestly, i sit and look at my life and wonder...how, in the wide, wide world of sports, did i end up here??
****
my digestive system hates me. it's a mutual hate/hate relationship. like all relationships, it requires communication and honesty.
DS: i hate you.
me: i know you do. i know why. but can't we call a truce?
DS: as long as you abuse me the way you do, we cannot negotiate.
me: look who's talking! everything i give you, you declare Not Good Enough, Not Enough, or you just plain kick it on up/down the pipe without a bye-your-leave. and why, may i ask, do you hit the Overdrive Button just as five people walk up to the desk to check in?
DS: coincidence. purely coincidence. you act as if this is all my fault, when clearly, it is totally yours.
me: what are you talking about? i hardly bother you at all!
DS: asswipe, (and i use the term with the greatest affection) Pepsi is not a food group, and it's not meant to be a nutritional supplement.
me: you really suck.
DS: furthermore, one meal or less a day is not cutting the mustard, either. come on! you're killing me. crackers? a half a baked potato? what's going on here?
me: talk to Appetite. she's gone AWOL and she's never done that before. believe me, without her, i got nuthin'. not to mention the hamsters dancing Riverdance in my tummy every time i think about....ech.
DS: you better get with it. you think this is bad, it could get a whole lot worse, trust me. tell Brain to get rid of those hamsters once and for all, or the whole she-bang is gonna go down the shitter. literally.
me: *sigh*
****
anybody know a hamster exterminator?
Check out TSB for the most legal fun you can have with your clothes on.
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