kanji

04 May, 2005
it's the year to be hated

for just once, let's put aside the nice guy Ska "T" that i have tried, hopefully, to convey... cuz at the core, that is what i think i'm supposed to be.
i could be wrong. it wouldn't be the first time, nor the last. it's like they said: "everything you know is WRONG!"

so, pardon me while i bleed some acid... 'lest i become consumed.


to preface this tirade, a little story. an observation, really: in the mens room here at work, the ony one, which is shared by management (by way of a locked one-way door) and the "production" employees (or "rabble"). those who enter from the management side NEVER use the urinals. always, the stalls. mostly, i thought this is because they wish to avoid any unpleasant contact with aforesaid rabble... like, for instance, eye contact or having to say anything cordial in the coarse, guttural tongue of the lower species.
maybe that's not it after all. more than likely, it's due to their microscopic penises (penii?) whose minuscule proportions negate manual control. the larger the portfolio and retirement account, inversely affects the ability to pee standing up.

yeah. the law of inverse proportions. makes sense.

like the white-shirted-pleated-and-suspendered yuppie i was stuck behind in line at the grocery, last night. how many whines-per-minute?
because he had to find the per-bottle price of the case of drinks that he opened up at the cashier. because the server at the bakery didn't properly tape the box for his banana-kiwi tart... which dumped into his cappicola ham bag.

god, why do you torment them so?

the uniform. must be the uniform.

there must be something brain-sucking about making the leap to controlling others. NaziBarbie runs the digitalPrePress where i sit for 12 hours-a-day. previously, her Blondeness was responsible for tracking down errant accounts... i use to hear her bird-dogging slippery customers on the phone, back when i spent some time on the day shift. i pitied the fools... now, i'm one. and i didn't even get to vote.
regardless, i've had to darken her mood with pertinent questions for the past two days. without fail, instead of fixing her eyes on mine, for just a few seconds, she looks above my head and darks them from left-to-right, over-and-over, until i'm sure she's having an epileptic seizure. or else there's a vision of the JackRabbit�Vibrator over my head. not sure which.

i love my job. and my life. much less than i used to, though.

actually, i'm having difficulty finding any reason to continue the charade.

any of them.

.


hit me with your rhythm stick




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