whoosh. whoosh. whoosh.the blinds keep blowing in my face and everyone keeps yelling at me to close the window. whoooooooooshhhhhhhhh. I really don't mind it though. I find the constant crinkling climb of the office caterpillar kind of comforting. whooshwhooshwhoooooshhhhhhhh. its like face planting into a giant bowl of crispy celery.
aahhh.
now, take that however you'd like, but that sure sounds dandy to me.
whoosh WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSHHHHHHH!!
that gust was perfect. just fucking perfect.
my days are perfect.
I wake up, look out my window and think of the different extravagant ways I'd land from three stories up. tens across the board, I'm sure. my morning showers are a display of flopping genitalia and elegant squeals of folk legends long gone. I skip to work at a tempo fit for a funeral procession. the blue skies come out from hiding and the trees flaunt their newly awakened beauty. remember zippity doo da? with the crazy old bastard with no teefs? story of my LYFFFFFE. except the birds attack me from time to time. you see, in texas the doves and magpie interbred and now theres these ferocious mutant dovepies that lurk the shadows along the sidewalks. one must always be ready. for anything. why, just the other day a dovepie kamikazied into a street pole. birds are just falling outta the sky these days. whether it be because of their inherent blindness, or insatiable blood thirst...I don't think texas is ready for the answer.
anyways.
WHOOSH WHOOSH wooooosh. back at the office I make a cup of coffee to start off the day. as I stir the cream in with random office supplies, I try to think up different ways to waste my 9 to 5 away. most of the time it involves pretending to write memos or hiding in conexes. sometimes though, I get wrapped up in other peoples's'sss escapades. last week I was involved in a failed attempt at rock climbing. they tried to throw me on the roof to get an antenna down and I only made it three quarters of the way. up. ever seen a cat climb up a wall?
yeah.
well.
I can't do that.
nowadays, my life after work is a cigarette haze of musty vaginas, smirnoff ice, and ibuprofen. speaking of vaginas, I'm starting to notice how I have a tendency to turn every woman into a printing press of hatred and uh. um. slut-nessy. its weird how I'm secretly a misogynist even though I always end up rambling about women's rights and beauty when I'm drunk as hell. some of you know what I mean... I just wish for ONCE I could be less of a narcissistic, stubborn, manipulative piece of shit. I wonder if that's even humanly possible? maybe I gotta chemical imbalance-or some kinda childhood trauma? or maybe I'm just too free. maybe I just do and don't care. I used to say that was the definition of a slave; just a person that has no input or choice-but who knows WHAT to believe these days...
I certainly don't. and just plainly don't fucking care.
I'm part of the Hopeless Generation. we got a bleak and wonderful future ahead of us.
better get your 3-D glasses for the finale.
aahhh.
now, take that however you'd like, but that sure sounds dandy to me.
whoosh WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSHHHHHHH!!
that gust was perfect. just fucking perfect.
my days are perfect.
I wake up, look out my window and think of the different extravagant ways I'd land from three stories up. tens across the board, I'm sure. my morning showers are a display of flopping genitalia and elegant squeals of folk legends long gone. I skip to work at a tempo fit for a funeral procession. the blue skies come out from hiding and the trees flaunt their newly awakened beauty. remember zippity doo da? with the crazy old bastard with no teefs? story of my LYFFFFFE. except the birds attack me from time to time. you see, in texas the doves and magpie interbred and now theres these ferocious mutant dovepies that lurk the shadows along the sidewalks. one must always be ready. for anything. why, just the other day a dovepie kamikazied into a street pole. birds are just falling outta the sky these days. whether it be because of their inherent blindness, or insatiable blood thirst...I don't think texas is ready for the answer.
anyways.
WHOOSH WHOOSH wooooosh. back at the office I make a cup of coffee to start off the day. as I stir the cream in with random office supplies, I try to think up different ways to waste my 9 to 5 away. most of the time it involves pretending to write memos or hiding in conexes. sometimes though, I get wrapped up in other peoples's'sss escapades. last week I was involved in a failed attempt at rock climbing. they tried to throw me on the roof to get an antenna down and I only made it three quarters of the way. up. ever seen a cat climb up a wall?
yeah.
well.
I can't do that.
nowadays, my life after work is a cigarette haze of musty vaginas, smirnoff ice, and ibuprofen. speaking of vaginas, I'm starting to notice how I have a tendency to turn every woman into a printing press of hatred and uh. um. slut-nessy. its weird how I'm secretly a misogynist even though I always end up rambling about women's rights and beauty when I'm drunk as hell. some of you know what I mean... I just wish for ONCE I could be less of a narcissistic, stubborn, manipulative piece of shit. I wonder if that's even humanly possible? maybe I gotta chemical imbalance-or some kinda childhood trauma? or maybe I'm just too free. maybe I just do and don't care. I used to say that was the definition of a slave; just a person that has no input or choice-but who knows WHAT to believe these days...
I certainly don't. and just plainly don't fucking care.
I'm part of the Hopeless Generation. we got a bleak and wonderful future ahead of us.
better get your 3-D glasses for the finale.
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