Darling Clementine

“I have no reason to talk about you.”

YET, when busted out on the fact that YOU WERE INDEED talking shit about that person… you “don’t talk shit about [person], except maybe when I need to call her a bitch under my breath.”

You were just talking mad shit. Oh wait, sorry, you don’t talk shit. OWN UP TO IT. Shit. This isn’t the first time you’ve been busted out by the person you were sharing said shit with; to then be confronted by said shittee. Seriously.

I’d be all like, “Fuck yeah, I was talking about you. Wanna know why? Because you beat babies with kittens.” Or whatever dumb fucking excuse you need to come up with. Personally I enjoy the truth, but whatever. “Yeah, I was talking shit about you, you dumb fucking twat.”

I’ve had the shittiest week and I’ll thank no one to fuck with me any further. 3 days and I’m ready to cut somebody. Yeah, 3 days… I have Mondays off for the forseeable future (i.e., until about September) and today, I woke up and said fuck it. I am in no mood to deal with any more crap. I just can’t take it anymore. I don’t know what kind of fucked up alignment the planets had going on and how many people were on their damn periods, but this shit… I’m done.

It’s also find a new job time and to utilise that link I posted a few entries back. I’ll show you, asshole.

Anyway, since my (immediate) boss didn’t call or text me back this morning, I guess not coming in was cool. If not, oh well, fire me. Please fucking fire me. I’ll give monies to fire me. Nah, don’t fire me just yet. I have to steal shit first (not really).

Also, fuck you Comcast… showing the Emirates Cup on a channel I don’t have. THAT’S EVIL. Fine then, I’ll just watch it online. YOU DON’T OWN ME.

Ever have that one stupid-ass friend on whatever social-networking site that consistently says stupid-ass shit and you really want to comment on it telling them they’re morons, but you have to refrain yourself lest some higher being smites you down right there for a being an asshole even though the stupid-ass person totally needs to hear it? purplemonkeydishwasher.

Yeah. But then half the time you can’t even understand what the fuck they’re typing because apparently they no longer speak English as their first language and have spun off into speaking Dumbfuckish and no one except other people who speak Dumbfuckish ever comment because they’re the only one who know what that one person is typing. Don’t dare write back in English because sometimes their brains are so fried from being “best friends with Jane” (written in Dumbfuckish, of course) they don’t understand what the fuck you just written.

And, since you pay for web hosting/domain names/blog space, you can go and write this in response to their dumbass status update:

OF COURSE YOUR KIDS ARE FUCKING ASLEEP AFTER “SWIMMING” ALL DAY. YOU HAD THEM OUT YESTERDAY ON ONE OF THE HOTTEST FUCKING DAYS OF THE SUMMER (IT TOPPED 105 BITCH AND THE HEAT INDEX MADE IT FEEL WORSE). THEY’RE PROBABLY FUCKING SUNBURNT BECAUSE I KNOW YOU DON’T PUT SUNSCREEN ON THEM. PROBABLY SUFFERING FROM A LITTLE BIT OF HEAT EXHAUSTION (WHICH FUCKING SUCKS TO HAVE BY THE WAY, I KNOW I HAD TONS OF FUN WITH MY RAGING CASE OF IT). I KNOW THEY DON’T EVER DRINK WATER, LOOK AT YOU. BUT, OH, AS LONG AS YOU HAD FUN “GETTING YOUR TAN ON”. I HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR SKIN CANCER YOU NASTY ASSHOLE MOTHERFUCKER.

That’s just from yesterday. We’re not even going to get into the asinine update from a few days ago where this stupid-ass was mentioning going back to her “old ways.” Bitch, I swear…

Did you guys know that I cannot cook bacon for shit? Or rice? Or omelettes? I can’t even properly cook bacon in the fucking microwave. I don’t even attempt to cook rice anymore. Nombre Uno, because I really don’t like it. Numero Two, if it doesn’t come in a Zatarains box, it ain’t happening. Nummer Trois, not quite sure where I was going with this. Plus, any omelettes I cook would probably induce vomiting, so THERE YOU GO!

If we were ever kidnapped, held in a room and I was forced to cook one of the above to gain our freedom and possibly keep on keeping on… you guys would be some dead bastards. Sorry. I could probably negotiate my way out with sexual favours or something, but you guys are on your own. Sorry, that’s just how it goes. I still love you, though. I give you permission to haunt me until I jump out of a window or something.

Anyway… have some links to some places. You’ll thank me when you’re through peeing in your pants and snotting all over yourself.

• Hyperbole and a Half
  I read back through this blog forever. It induced the aforementioned pants-peeing and I eventually just started forgoing trousers.
• fucking movie reviews (dot com)
  fuck fuck fuckitty fuck
• And last but certainly not least… TURN YOUR SPEAKERS ON
  Aww, they added a stupid ad & that dumbass Facebook crap to the bottom. Oh well, it’s not relevant,

So… the new chick at work? Gigantic racist. And a raging alcoholic who enjoys getting into bar fights with her husband. Them against other people, not against each other. Also, loves making dumbass comments based on assumptions… about me. I’ll show that twat “not in a good mood.”

I really hope she quits. That’s not nice, is it? Oh well. ha ha!

And now for something completely different… I’m mad at the drive-up ATM at my bank. It’s doing that “can’t currently accept check deposits” shit again. NOT FUNNY IT’S HOT & I DON’T WANT TO GET OUT OF THE CAR. Stupid ATM.