You are currently browsing the monthly archive for June 2008.
This new job…this exciting, incredibly creative new bastard job which insists in micromanaging every move I make it getting on my tits.
Jobs I would rather have this week;
Bovine Gynocologist
Illegal human tissue harvester
Crematorium repairman
Porn Theater Custodian
Bovine Inseminator
Truck stop serial killer (Apprentice)
Avian Flu Emergency Response Team Poultry Culler
Pimp
Colonic Irrigation Technician
Coke Dealer
Eskimo Pie Fetish Website Operator
Embalming technician
Snuff Film Editor
Part Time Professional Assassin
Furry Wrangler (Specialist Team)
Cartoonist for the Al Qaeda Daily News
Human Remains Exhumation Coordinator
International Art Thief
Gun Store Stockboy
Alternate Identity Procurement Specialist
Discarded Bubble Gum Sculptor (Master Skills)
Stunt Cock (not a real one, of course)
Politician
- things i am no longer required to do:
- Show you the money
- Wake up and smell the coffee
- Want a piece of you
- Sit on it
- Keep it real
- Wang Chung tonight
- Get all up in your grill
- Think outside the box
- Be there (and/or be square)
- Talk to the hand
- Take it up a notch
- Kiss your grits
- Get jiggy with it
- Catch you on the flipside
- Open up a can of whoop-ass
- Gag you with a spoon
- Keep on truckin’
- Get with the program
- Eat your shorts
- Take it easy
- Give mad props
- Bring it on
- Touch base
- Quiero Taco Bell
- Not go there
And people…PEOPLE! Please remember; baby oil is NOT lube!
Can I get an Amen!!
….short skirt was diagnosed with cancer and I have been anything but nice to her since arriving at new job. Not very well done.
…..family 42 is gearing up for summer barbeque’s without me to join them
….I can no longer imagine the smell of the ocean where mother 42 lives
….I will never have small little tiny arms and legs wrapped around me calling me “Mum” and asking me to fix their scraped knees and elbows
….my life didn’t exactly turn out as I expected and I fear I am a disappointment not just to myself
….and mostly becasue I have angered the Tattoed Man and I don’t know if he will forgive me and I don’t know how to fix it
“What happens when you die?”
“Well, you go to sleep and just don’t wake up.”
“Does it hurt?”
“No, I suppose it wouldn’t.”
“What if you get hit by a bus?”
“I think that might hurt a little bit.”
“I don’t want to get hit by a bus.”
“Silly girl, you won’t get hit by a bus! That’s why you must to hold my hand when we cross the road. I’ll protect you.”
“Will you always be there to protect me?”
“Of course I will!”
“I’m not so sure….”
“Well I am. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You mean you’re going to live forever? Aren’t you pretty old now?”
“Cheeky monkey.”
::giggling::
“You’re so old that you’re older than Santa Clause! You’re so old, you’re older than Mr Toad! You’re so old, you’re older than mommy!”
“Ah, my dear. I cannot possibly be older than mommy since mommy is my elder sister and she will always be older than I. However, I do seem to remember a small boy in a very red suite and white hair at school who was a few years younger than I. I wonder what ever happened to him….”
“He’s Santa!!”
“Indeed he may well be.”
“Will you live forever? I want you to live forever.”
“For you, I’ll do anything little one.”
