WHY YOU GOTTA BE LIKE THAT?
I really think people like to work with me:
jason_owen_1: yo
jagamar_hna: yepjason_owen_1: does good to go mean approved?
jagamar_hna: Sorta
jagamar_hna: I mean yes
jagamar_hna: I mean I don't want to take responsibility for it.
jagamar_hna: Really though it means approved.
jagamar_hna: Even though it is not approved.
jagamar_hna: Or in so many words It is approved.jason_owen_1: now you confused me
jagamar_hna: So go ahead and send it...unless you need it to be approved.
jagamar_hna: in which case it already is...approved.
jagamar_hna: I like cereal.jason_owen_1: go to hell!!!
A QUARTER OF A MILLION DOLLARS AT A STRIP CLUB?!!!
I'm sure some alcohol was involved, but still who can justify a very nice house payment on one night at a strip club?
I'm not sure what all I would expect to get dropping a quarter of a million dollars at a strip club. Maybe I'd finally get to actually touch some boobies. Maybe they'd let me get away with anything. Maybe they'd let me bring a camera inside. Maybe they'd let me give the hottest dancer there a tracheotomy. Maybe they'd name a pole after me. "The John Q. Pubic Memorial Dance Pole" Does sound pretty swanky. Maybe we've got another idea for those marketing geniuses in the tobacco industry. They could paint the poles to look like cigarettes and they could emblazon their logo all over them.
All I know is one time I actually dropped a quarter in a strip club and I searched frantically to find it. It was worse than loosing a contact lense to the floor of a movie theater. Nevertheless I just didn't feel right giving the dancer only $.75 no matter how long I had been warming up the change in my hands. I guess I'm just not the strip-club going type.
WHY I LIKE MY JOB
- strippers
- butt plugs
- butt extensions
- shaft dimplers
- bent mount gripping stations
- finishing blocks
- ball washers - "A clean balls gives you a better shot"
- ram rods
I'M NOT CONVINCED YOU'RE READING THIS
Dear Albert,
I feel I need to be honest with someone about all of this...I slept with your daughter. I mean I'm glad I got to taste that before she got any older. It wasn't supposed to mean anything, and at least for a while it didn't. I mean girls that age shouldn't look that sweet. She's so curvy and soft right now. It made me think how natural and untainted she had to be. I wanted to be a part of this stage in her life. Only, one thing lead to another and that lead to something else and on and on, until finally I realized that she was falling in love with me. If you really knew me, you'd know I don't do love.
Look I didn't force her to do anything she wasn't willing to learn about. I'm not trying to defend myself, because I'd do it again. Of course it would have to be soon because by the time she's 18 I imagine she'll be a little on the big side for my tastes. I mean I can't get behind a fat-ass, ya' know?
Look, I'd like to just put all of this behind us but I think you may need to talk to her about personal space and when "enough" is enough and even personal hygiene. I have to admit I enjoyed taking pictures of her and the other cheerleaders when they decided to toilet paper my house last weekend. I also enjoyed having them all over for the evening. It gave me the opportunity to test out my new digital recorder.
I know you're probably wondering why I'm divulging all of this to you. It's like this, see — Since the doctor told me I should contact everyone I've been with in the past year and she's not returning my calls, I thought it would best if I let you know. She needs to get checked because well, let's just say Kraft Macaroni and Cheese may not be touting themselves as "The Cheesiest" anymore, unless they get her as a spokesperson maybe.
Me and the other cheerleaders have talked and we've decided that my relationship with your daughter is unhealthy. I mean in a spiritual way, Al, I enjoy the occasional innocent flirting session, but it's like every time I came home, she was there waiting for me. Uninvited, she'd stick around until things got boring, and then she'd just force herself on me. I don't know where she learned to use her mouth like that either. I guess I just don't have the sex-drive that can appease a girl her age anymore.
Please, let's not beat around it anymore. Tell her the truth. Tell her it's best that she isn't coming over anymore. Let her know that I've already returned all over her undergarments and videos and toys and lotions. Maybe in a while after the dust has settled we can all sit down and have a big laugh about all of this. I hope you'll take this seriously and have a little heart to heart with her.
Regardless, I'll see you at the next PTO meeting.
Your friend and neighbor,
Beatrice
p.s., she's got a mole on the underside of her left breast. You may want to get that looked at too. I kept bugging her about, but you know kids.
GET TO STEPPIN'
I'm busy, okay? I'm busy. I'm too busy to live life.
I'm too busy to write a little something to ease my mind and make the few people who would like to read what I have to write feel like it's all worth the wait.
I fill up all of my time avoiding any opportunity in which I might use my brain. It is much like working out. If you haven't been to the gym in a while, you lack the confidence to get back in there. You feel like people might see you as being an idiot for using the butt blaster for an awkward upper body workout. You feel like an idiot when you forget words or punctuation or you use grammar wrongly.
There is never anytime like right now to start working on your future; working on trying to make you the best possible YOU ever imaginable. I know this. It is just being at work all day makes me feel like everything is so futile. I went to school for 17 years of my life just to barely make it financially?
I'll admit my job isn't the worst, but it is so mentally draining that by the end of the work day all I want to do is forget about everything. Sure sounds like reading or writing might be a good way to go, but when I write "forget about everything", I mean EVERYTHING. I don't want to remember how to read or write. I don't want to remember how to draw or like to have fun. I just want to write the day off and start all over again tomorrow, only I don't have to go to work. I don't ever have to go to work again.
I want to win the lottery and pay people to do my job for more than I get paid, so I can spend my free time at work fucking with people. I want to tell people how fat they've become. I want to set all of the clocks ahead by 23 hours, so everyone can see how late don't mean shit. I want to tell people that I walked into the bathroom after them and I had to sneak into the women's room because I couldn't stand the burning sensation my nose had to share with my eyes. I want to tell people that the world isn't going to end if I don't get this particular project done at exactly the time they made me guess it would be done. I want to tell all the hot bitches that I'm going to fuck the shit out of them in the conference room at 3:30, right after I get done with my nap. I want to show up late for that too.
Then I want to get a second job, one where I work with people. The customers!!! I want to have to work with the average customer and tell them that they could buy the exact same car for $5000 less if they just wait a month or go to a different dealer. I want to tell them that I've seen the way they make those houses and I don't recommend that company to anyone. I want to explain to them that if they don't tip me ahead of time I'm going to spill hot coffee on their infant's head, pull off their toupee, and have all of my serving buddies come out of the kitchen all festive like we're going to sing happy birthday - clapping and shouting and then beat the holy-living shit out of them and take what we want from their wallet, because "Thanks" and "Great Job" doesn't pay anyone's bills.
Yeah I'm talking to you Lashawn D. Patterson, she who stiffed me with her credit card on Father's Day 2001. I've got a son, you insensitive whore! If you didn't like something you should have told me. If you had a complaint, you could have told any manager. If you just didn't want to spend the money, you should have stayed at home.
Then I want to go home. I want to hear my girlfriend tell me about the chemical imbalances she's going through in her body right now and how I need to be sensitive to her needs because she is a woman and it is perfectly natural for her to be a bitch to me. Then I want to explain to her how my sexual drive, the kind that men are labeled "pigs" for, is merely due to a chemical called testosterone and if I have to be sensitive to the way the chemicals in her body make her feel and react, she better damn well be prepared to be sensitive to mine. I want to tell her how if it is perfectly natural for a woman to do something it is revered as beautiful and I need to embrace it, but when it comes to a man doing what comes natural it seen as something that needs to be changed.
Then, while she's crying and realizing how right I am, I want to make a call to the President and tell him it's not his fault he's an asshole. It's not his fault gas prices have made it difficult for us to live. It's not his fault that other countries hate us. It's not his fault that American's envision a world for themselves where they have all the money they could ever need and never have to work to deserve a damn thing. Everyone on the entire planet wants something they have no right to; something they do not deserve. They want everything they've ever dreamt about, but never do they ever dream of being someone who deserves it all.
Then I'll hang the phone up crying, because I just got the point to that whole "Planet of the Apes" movie. I'm one of them too. I'm part of the problem and I have done absolutely nothing to fix anything. And then I'll sit back and think how much simpler my day would have been if I would have just stayed at work and done what every else tells me to do. At least that way I'll get to go home and watch LOST tonight.
