I know part of it is that Hurricane Black Friday has passed, and shopping malls are back to their normal amount of insane, unacceptable, pierced-in-all-the-wrong places human traffic. The 40-inch Samsung Flat Panel HDTV I didn't buy at Best Buy at 40% off is now a mere 25% off. Just gets me a little blue.
Part of it is this whole thing with Amy Winehouse's husband being in jail over the holidays, all thanks to some stupid stool pigeon club owner who wouldn't accept a bribe to shut up about that silly assault thing. It's called hush money for a reason, dummy. Am I going to have to beat the ever-loving crap out of you again before you get it through your remarkably thick skull that I DON'T WANT YOU TO TELL THE GODDAMN COPS THAT I BEAT THE EVER-LOVING CRAP OUT OF YOU? Oh, wait, that wasn't me. That was Amy Winehouse's husband. Poor kids. My heart is with you, Amy Winehouse and Amy Winehouse's husband.
Part of it was that last piece of My Mother's Apple Crisp ™ which I mistakenly ate with Cool Whip ™ instead of Turkey Hill ™ Vanilla Bean Ice Cream ™. Rookie mistake.
Part of it really has to be George Bush's scaled back domestic agenda now, as America is coming to the end of the
That's not it, though.
I'm not sure WHAT it is.
It's been four days off from Dole Fruit, though. Thanks to A-Rod, who renegotiated his contract with the assistance of Amy Winehouse and her husband and NOT his mega-agent $cott Bora$, I have to head back to work and then beg for my job with my hat in my hand. Not to get all Family Guy with the references, but it's the saddest thing since Jim Belushi's performance in the movie About Last Night, which I attempted to watch yesterday, except that the DVD was scratched badly enough that I missed the last 20 minutes or so. I am positive that it was the merciful act of some former Netflix viewer, attempting to stop the rest of us from having to suffer through such an obscene and unnecessary profanity against the movie industry. Seriously, I never thought ANYTHING would make the movie Striptease, which I actually walked out on, seem like a palatable example of artistic merit. If any of you happens to know any of the corporate bigwigs in Canning-Ops at Dole Fruit, please ask them to go easier on me than the judge went on Amy Winehouse's husband. It is the middle of the Holiday Shopping Season™, after all.
Anyway, it's been four days off. I haven't shaved since Wednesday. And yet, for some reason, my stubble, which is supposed to be all manly and rough and scratchy, has been reported as soft. WTF, Jesus? WTF?
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