Wow. I am finally out of the hospital. My girlfriend beat the shit outta me for writing with numbers, though technically they are not numbers (Ouch! Quit it!). Alright, I am better now. Tired. No more surprises, honey, I promise.
XV IX Random Thoughts
I) Seriously. How can you be a beaten man? I know it is possible, it happens all the time, but my brain just can’t process it. If you’re gay, ok, I get that you can get an asswhooping from another guy, or if your wife is an ex east german javelin thrower, she can bitchslap you back to yo mama, or if you write stupid posts…anyway, weird topic but I don’t get it.
II) Hey after finding my initials on my underwear, they are now on my toothbrush! Where does it end? Who the hell uses a BLUE toothbrush in the house other than me? Why write our son’s initials on a fucking rotating spiderman toothbrush? Really?
III) Roman numerals are not technically numbers, right? (love you baby)
IV) My son loves peanuts. We got a shitload of ‘em with shells, so I have to crack them one by one. I wonder if it is a job actually, cracking peanut shells. It cannot be mechanized cause all the peanuts would be crushed. so never complain about your job because you could be a (drums)…PEANUT SHELL CRUSHER!
V) Heard of Zynga’s Mafia War on Fuckbook? Addictive, I tell you. You can fight in New York, Moscow, Bangkok and Cuba. Latest news: Paris is coming! HAHAHA! Paris? “I vill kill you with zat baguette, fuckair”. “Oui oui, dere iz no way you can beat me because my taylor iz rich”.
VI) I hate special days, weeks or months. Peanut with shells day! Secretaries’ week! People with weird fungi month! I root for LEAVE US THE FUCK ALONE year.
VII) A woman asked me if my son is potty trained, in case he stays at their place. Kind of a delicate question when I AM not even potty trained. Anyway I dislike this person so I told her we are poor so we can’t afford diapers and that my son shits his pants every hour or so. He sometimes eats it also so be careful. No more news about her. Case closed.
VII) NO. My kid is a genius. NO! that’s his favorite word. I can ask anything and the answer is…NO! He means “go fuck yourself daddy I am the master of the universe” but he doesn’t know how to say it yet, so…NO! Genius because this is IT! Yes! This is the SOLUTION!
VIII) Monday morning at work. “Can you give me some information on blah blah?”. “NO”.
IX) This drastic change in my work style got me reprimanded. So now I am using a milder tactic, using a deep cavernous voice with the MAYBE strategy. Goes a little bit like this, client starts:
- Hello, can you give me some information?
- Maybe I can.
- Hum…are you serious?
- Maybe I am.
- This is not funny at all.
- Maybe it is.
- I WANT TO TALK TO YOUR SUPERVISOR! NOW!
- Maybe you can.
- LISTEN TO ME YOU LITTLE PRICK I WILL FILE A COMPLAINT!
- Maybe you will, maybe you won’t.
- YOU ARE AN ASSHOLE!
- Maybe I am.