Like a Little Girl

Yesterday I was in a car accident. Nothing major, really it was hardly even a fender bender. And I was totally fine, the lady I bumped into was a snarling cunt like I had made it my mission that day to fuck her car up. Which was awesome considering her car had nothing wrong with it aside from some scratches on the bumper and the car I was driving, not mine mind you, had a caved in front plate and slight hood raising. To top it all off I am completely calm and resigned with how this is going to float back with the car owner when the officers show up. And I fall apart like hot fondant.

I literally started crying when the officer talked to me. Granted it was the first car accident I'd ever been in while driving, and it was not my vehicle, and I was on the return of a long car trip; but still. I did what I always laughed at girls on TV for doing, and that's legitimately crying in front of officers. Although I did try and hide it. Which I think made them more keen to comforting me, because both of them were really hip on assuring me that everything would be all right and no one was hurt and these things happen every day! Seriously, both of them must have said those exact same sentences three times a piece. At least. And I kept nodding. And then they even joked with me to get me to smile.

So I wonder, why is it some people look totally adorable when they cry and others look like they just squeezed a lemon out their nose? And I mean adorable. So cute you want to give them a cookie and a pat on their head. And if they are the others, then they look like they just got stung by something their allergic too. Their face puffs up like Will Smith in Hitch and you wonder what in the hell happened. Do they have the mumps? Are they a demon straight out of Angel and they're shedding their mortal flesh sack so you can gaze upon their fearsome complexion?

I mean, really? Where in evolution did we decide that being cute should hitch onto crying? If you're cute, you should be cute when you cry! Damn It!! And how to you explain the pretty people who are all "Ooh La La >;)~" and then they cry and they become "DAMN! D:"

It Came From Below The Sink

Woke up groggy. Tried to nap. My body thought this was hilarious and the moment I laid down it was instantly alert and energized. Fucker. Noticed there was this funny smell. Couldn't place it. It just smelled bad. Not the garbage, not the bathroom, not the laundry, wasn't coming from the out of doors. Bailed out to go grocery shopping to fill my poor empty fridge. Came back and that damn smell was still there. Went to get something from underneath my kitchen sink, only to discover the source of the smell. I'm not sure how long this had been building up, but damn. As it turns out, whatever you pour down the sink doesn't go down the drain. It empties out into the cupboard below the sink. Yummeh!

Twilight Invented Good Vampires?

I was looking through the local newspaper the other day, and I ran across this article, that quite literally made me want to vomit. It was such utter refuse I wanted to find the author and beat them to death with several hundred copies of the article. “The de-evilution of the vampire” indicated that Stephanie Meyer is the creator of heuristic philanthropic vampires who can be good beings and maybe hate who they are.

To the author of that article:
Oh hell no, you didn’t. Obviously, you haven’t read a book published before 2003. If you had, maybe you would know any of DOZENS of stories. For instance, the tale of Bunnicula – which I read in the THIRD GRADE, likely long before you could spell your own name let alone read it. This story is a lovable book about a VEGETARIAN vampire RABBIT. That’s right, a cute cuddly friendly little bunny THAT NEVER EVER BIT A HUMAN BEING – Suck on that Bella. The only people that have any right to be even slightly worried about Bunnicula are vegetable gardeners; and even then, what will you lose, one or two carrots a night? Oh the horror!

And why didn’t your mother love you – because if she had you would have grown up on Sesame Street with THE COUNT!! Who what, ran around counting and laughing. Oh, gee, what a horrible guy. And if you did find the time to crawl out from under your fucking rock and watch it – was he seriously that terrifying? Oh my god, he’s counting!! With *gasp* NUMBERS!! Noooooo! Get the fuck out of here.

As for vampires who “hate who they are” or “want to change” I have quite literally read dozens of books. If you look to ONE AUTHOR by the name of Anne Rice you will find her series FULL of vampires who at one time or another HATE THAT THEY ARE “DAMNED”. I swear to god every book in that series included one vampire or another who was pissing and moaning about having “no soul”. Even R.L. Stine had a vampire who hated being one.

And where the hell were you when Blade came out? I’m referring to the movies since it’s very doubtful you’re even aware they were ever graphic novels in the first place. Isn’t that entire series about a vampire who hates himself? ZOMFG, I’M TOTALLY RIGHT! *GASP* No Way! Not only that but several characters are self-loathers: Whistler, Hannibal Kane, even Dracula.

This only reminds one of Buffy the Vampire Slayer: the movie, the series, the graphic novels. It’s got its own franchise and a god damned spin off ALL ABOUT A SELF LOATHING FRACKIN’ VAMPIRE Angel. Hello! And there was also Spike. Both of them with more depth in their left ass cheek than Edward’s whole frickin’ family.

What’s infinitely worse is that the Twilight series is nothing but a rip-off of L.J. Smiths The Vampire Diaries. And a HORRIBLE one at that. First, no character has real depth and the only soul searching moments revolve around TEENAGE ANGST. Isn’t this why everyone is so glad they get out of high school and into the real world? The ability to look back and see that it was all MUNDANE BULLSHIT? That all the drama you were swept up in or watched was as fucking ridiculous as you thought it was or were told by your elders it was?

Second, all the violence is toned down or completely elimnated. What is this – preschool? I don’t know about you but most teenagers I know are aware that people die and that violence except in self-defense is bad. And do you honestly expect anyone to believe that all issues can be talked out? Yeah sure, tell that to everyone right after they just got assaulted. Go ahead, you tell them to talk it out with that douche bag that just robbed them. No. If you are going to lead someone up to an awesome battle, the point then is not to kill the climax by having them all talk it out. That’s just shitty writing, and a super doucher move.

Third, good authors do not preach anything, let alone abstinence. If you read any kind of scientific study you would know that preaching abstinence is WORSE than teaching sex education. Don’t believe me? READ A STUDY BY THE GOVERNMENT. Every study done by the government, and every other legitimate agency, has PROVEN that it is better to explain everything it correct terms and provide as much information as possible than to tell horror stories and lies. Not just evil boys want to have sex and not just whore girls either.

And since when do vampires automatically have no souls? I have read quite a few stories where the creatures of the night in question are as human in that respect as you or I. Besides the fact, that when was it proven that souls actually existed. This is not to state for or against, but how can you argue such a REGLIGIOUS point. Granted, it may be something the author believes in and thusly it is inserted almost unconsciously as though it would be absurd for the author not to have them. But then, how can you discount such a being simply because it’s different from you.

What then? Do pets not have souls, I mean they’re animals. They eat dead things and poop. Those are some pretty strange things. So then do they not have souls? What about owls, they live only by night, move silently and can turn their heads almost 180° – so then do they not have souls? Which then, I would argue that’s sort of egotistical, very Christian in that “conquer the world because it’s mine all mine”, but egotistical nonetheless.

Lastly, since freakin’ when did Edward and Bella make the best vampire love story? NO. I’m sorry, but it just isn’t happening. It can’t even compete with the lamest vampire-human love stories I’ve read or watched.

Take for instance Francis Ford Coppola’s 1992 Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Now everyone with two brain cells in their head that rub together will tell you the book is a far cry from the movie, so we’ll look at the movie for just its own sake. It tells the story of a guy who goes against his RELIGION AND COUNTRY for the girl he loves. Then he hangs around for centuries looking for her and finally DIES TO SAVE HER IMMORTAL SOUL. Hello Edward, you have accepted the short end of the stick, now please go take it to Buffy that she may properly end you.

And on another note, in the real world: EDWARD IS FUCKING GAY. He likes the sausage. No vajj for Mister Cullen, he prefers to stick with wood. If he really did exist, a character with his composition would be flat out fucking homosexual. He’d probably be a flamer, to be sure. Face it ladies, in real life Edward Cullen would be FAAAAAAAAAABULOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUS!!d

I am more than sure there are hundreds of books and stories and poems about good vampires that I’m missing. Why don’t you pull your head out of your ass and try and find some of them? Maybe my readers will be their super awesome selves and provide some examples.

And I know this was a tirade, but I am sick and fucking tired of all these whiny yappy bitches who don’t even read a single book a year all hopped up on this series who can’t even be bothered to read anything else with a monster in it.

My Muse, My Friend

You know, I just don’t understand you. And I wish that I did, or at least knew more about you to make the confusion a bearable placating thing. I’d like to be a friend. But somehow I think I have fucked things up along the way, and while I have vastly tried to fix things, I often feel I’m making more of a mess. I might convey this sentiment to you, if it didn’t feel like every effort is an unwarranted intrusion into your life.

I want to be a part of your life, but I think you may have misconstrued the implications of my desire for you. To be sure I have no ill intentions or misguided delusions of intimacy and that is not exactly what I strive to clamor for. That’s not what this raucous is about. I have never thought that asking to be someone’s friend would be so complicated and tedious a task, but you seem to effortlessly excel at it.

Perhaps it is arrogance, but I cannot bring myself to try and correct you. I think it’s more like to be fear. And maybe I do want more out of you than friendship, but it’s something I’ve already taken. Whether you want to be or not, I’ve made you a muse. Or maybe Fate has, she tends to be a mucker. My many misadventures have seemingly led to you, and so I will take this if this is all I have to gain from you. And let me assure you, it is not enough.

I want to be close. I want to be friends. I want to be the kind of people who call each other in the middle of the morning/night/etc because it is all suddenly so overwhelming and the sheer magnitude of it is crushing down and you can rant and rave endless and know the other person is listening and even if they haven’t had that exact feeling they know where you are coming from and have some thoughts to express and some suggestions to make. And even if all the advice fails, you know it is all going to be fine because you both can share in that moment and be free to be afraid together, knowing in the end the storm will pass and it will be good again tomorrow.

I am not searching for a savior, saint or prophet. Nor would I expect you to fulfill those roles. I am merely asking for a companion on this long lost road, on this distant journey to many misadventures. And sadly I’m finding the place I believe you should belong, despairingly vacant.

Cantankerous Bitchings

Ok, seriously? I’m rather annoyed. I’m not sure if they’ve officially cancelled Defying Gravity or just put it on hold, but the fact that another network is cancelling a show I REALLY LIKE is starting to chap my ass. 2009 Officially Fucking Sucks. A year of awfulness. And what’s worse, is that it is nothing catastrophic. It’s all the minor little shit that fucking matters that has gone to hell.

Sometimes I wish I had a really crazy fan that would just go out and kneecap all the miserable fucks who’ve stolen my distractions away from me. Or curb stomp them. I’m not picky. I just want them to live in a horribly disfigured way forevers.

Cantankerous Bitchings

Tragically I’ve come up with a new subject for a book. It’s nightmarish. I’m not even halfway through – research and other mind you now, not written word per se – on three and now I want to jump on a new one. It’s totally awesome – at least in my head and so I’m super psyched to get started on it.

And to be sure, I’m thinking I might want to make it a Manga. So I’ll be sketching up character refs to see if that’s the direction I want to go for sure. It will probably take longer than any other project. Of course this might also lead me to doing it to the rest of them… How tragic. Ha!

--------------------------

Is it just me – or do you want to skin the fucknut who created the McCafe commercials of epic annoyingness? And strangle at least half of the cast of Glee. The whore wife, the tramp cheerleader, the obsessive star, and Will – the spineless wimpy fop. Break their legs and beat them to death with them. I can’t decide if I love the show or hate it. Like picking at scabs – you know you really shouldn’t but there’s something to the sensation of digging a hole in your flesh.

Because In Reality

I kill myself in small amounts,
in each relationship it's not about love.
Just another funeral and just another girl left in tears.

And I'm waiting
with the sound turned off I’m waiting
like a glass balloon and I'm fading
into the void and then I'm gone, I'm gone, I'm gone...

They said that hell's not hot
They said that hell's not hot

I gave my soul to someone else
She must have known that it was already sold.
It was never about her,
it was about the hurt.

And I'm waiting
with the sound turned off I’m waiting
like a glass balloon and I'm fading
into the void and then I'm gone, I'm gone, I'm gone...

They said that hell's not hot
They said that hell's not hot

I kill myself in small amounts in each relationship it's not about love.
Just another funeral and just another girl left in tears.

waiting with the sound turned off I'm waiting
like a glass balloon and I'm fading
into the void and then I'm gone, I'm gone, I'm gone...

waiting....
waiting.....

fading....

gone, gone, gone

They said that hell's not hot
They said that hell's not hot
They said that hell's not hot
They said that hell's not hot

Have you ever thought about giving up. Maybe it's not about being unhappy, but just about nothing at all. That's all you feel. And that's all it will ever amount to. Why waste your time on someone who doesn't give a shit. Because that is all that it will ever be isn't it - just a WASTE of fucking TIME.

And it's so hard to trust anyone anymore. Let alone feel anything. I'm happy, but am I really. Do I really feel what I'm feeling. And if so why is there always that nagging emptiness in the background.
Because in reality I am happy.
Because in reality I am numb.
Because in reality I don't feel anything at all.
Which allows me to feel this surreal bliss - like being high all the fucking time. And it's great and amazing and awesome and inspiring.

The truth is I think I might have given up a long time ago. And now there is only the basic need. And if relationships are all just a waste of time anyway - why waste time. I'm not looking for a soulmate. I'm not looking for marriage. I'm not looking for a significant other. I'm not looking for a lover. I'm not looking for a date.
I just want a fuck...

I could lie to you and say I believed in better things... but there is no god but myself

It's an offer I would rather decline, but I'm afraid it's impossible to Just Say No!

What the hell is it about that two letter word that most everyone finds it so impossible to say.

NO.

N. O.

Negative. Nyet. Nein. Non.

Is it really so hard to turn someone down? It's impossible to say yes to everything. You cannot be everywhere at once. You cannot fund all the world's causes.

And when did it become acceptable to ignore the question? Who decided, "Well gee, I don't want to - but I'd rather not hurt your feelings BY BEING HONEST so I'll just pretend not to notice."

You want to know what I have to say to that?

NO

You are either going to acknowledge it as one with COMMON DECENCY does, or I am going to brow-beat you to death. Saying no is not a crime and I'm tired of being treated like a criminal for accepting it. You do not get everything you want in live. I have been rejected more times that I can count, for what ever reason.

I. AM NOT. DEAD.

So put your big-kid panties on and get the fuck over it.

Rejection may hurt, but life is pain and anyone who tells you other wise is selling something.

Forgive, Never Forget

Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.

George Santayana

You will never learn anything if you continue to forgive and forget. Forgiveness is fine if it is deserved, and better when it isn't. You can still make someone's life a living hell without holding a grudge. Grudges prove useless. They make anger seem unhealthy - when in fact it is one of thee most useful emotions you have. Because anger gets shit done.
Forgive everyone. Every slight. Every misdeed. Every trampling of your bitter black heart. Forgive it all.

But don't you ever fucking forget. Not ever. Whoever it was that said "Forgive and forget" needs to be anally raped for hours on end with a mace; and then pulverized with it. What a fuckwad. There's a reason shit happens. So you learn. So you get wise. All these cocksuckers run around wondering why they're constantly being fucked over. Here's a hint sweetums: BECAUSE YOU FUCKING DESERVE IT!
Yeah - that's right bitch. You. Deserve. It. If you are too INSIPID to learn your lesson the first time around you deserve the second time. And every time thereafter. I do not feel pity for anyone constantly being trampled on. You are allowing it to happen. And no body gives a shit about the doormat. Pick yourself up or quit bitching. Stop being incompetent. Stop being worthless.

Forgive the assholes. Remember it clearly. Learn your lesson. And then fuck their lives up.
Oh, forgiveness is great. It helps you to plan their demise without emotion. Thusly getting a clear and precise plan. Don't be afraid to make enemies. You've got to stab that bitch in the back for every scar you've got.
Murder really is justifiable in too many cases.

All That You Love Will Be Carried Away

I can't help that I like to be kissed
And I wouldn't mind if my name changed to Mrs.
This is one side, my conventional side
My attraction to tradition
My vintage disposition
My sincere architecture
And I want to cook him dinner
But I'm more indecisive than ever
And who believes in forever

Who will be the one to marry me?

A girl in the world barking up the wrong tree
A creature conditioned to employ matrimony
Crumbling continuity, I pick up the pieces
The ceremony makes me zealous


As the past quickly ceases
Fear from being neutered
I'm now prude, now defensive
Quickly I'm altered and tempted by new love only rented

Do you believe you'll marry me?
You might be the one to marry me

Back, looking back, looking back at me
I'm not how I used to be
Take me back, take me back into history
Diamond ring, tie me down, just like it used to be

Who will be the one to marry me?
Who will be the one to marry me?

I think about marriage sometimes. Well, I suppose "think about" is too broad a statement. I puzzle over. I have never understood the thought of committing yourself to just one person. Perhaps this is the result of the general applications I find indulged by others with the monogamous mindset. Like fucking mindless pod zombies. I want to take them and break their face in for it.

Do not get me wrong, I am all for being together forever if that is the Butter on your Toast; but, Seriously? And it is not that I do not want be accompanied. I just... I am not sure if I could commit solely to one person. This is not to say that I will never get married, or that I will never find someone - just one - who completes me so infinitely that I cannot bring myself to see any other; but, the likelihood of that happening is about as probable as my winning the lottery this Saturday.
Not. Fucking. Likely.

I think in the end it boils down to a point made infamous by Stephen King: "...according to at least one source I've read recently, all that you love will be carried away." Even if you stay together - it's not going to be forever. At least not with the terms people en mass use. It's only until this body expires - and quite frankly I find that fact so distastefully disgusting as to nearly acquiesce to the immediate urge to vomit. I don't want your cheap tokens crafted to portray a grossly defiled and corrupt emotion you attempt to pawn off as Love. When the brutal truth of the matter is most of you wouldn't know actual and true Love if it walked up to you as some bizarre amalgamation of David Carradine and Chuck Norris and Kung Fu kicked you in the jollies.

And how can you love someone when you don't even know who they are!?! You go based on the window dressing - and you want to know what, Sweetheart? At the age of 80 - man or woman - damn near EVERYONE ends up looking like Merle Fucking Haggard at best, and that creepy german Nosferatu at worst. Superficial packet of fucks. I have never, in my entire life, ever once thought someone suitable or even attractive based merely on their appearance. Now, do not let that statement confuse you. I said Attractive - not physically appealing. Tasty monkeys are just that: Eye Candy. They make your eyes happy and might fill your imaginations with entertaining thoughts.
Attraction is another game entirely.
Attraction is to Tasty Monkeys what Symphonies are to Wretching Sounds. Oh, they're both sounds all right - but how many hours can you spend listening to someone vomit?
And honestly, eye candy should remain just that - 19x out of 20. Because that is how often they prove to disappoint you. "No no no, don't talk. You talk - and you'll just fuck eeeeeverything up. Quiet time, yes, quiet time. No talkies. Noooo. Bad. Talking baaad." Eye candy should be treated like statues: you stand there and collect dust, and I'll let you know if it's ok for you too sneeze - and might I recommend holding your breath?

Everyone at some point is lonely. My moments are blissfully short, generally passing with a rueful sullenness without destroying my moment or even day. It is a human condition to feel isolated. We evolved as pack animals, and in this modern day with the supreme isolation technology provides our souls are hungering for that lost connection.
Someone told me you can figure out how affection-starved someone is by how many novels someone has. Fiction being a form of escapism and escapism popular with those who feel the need to connect more strongly than those they find themselves surrounded by.
I often wonder if this is a thought they themselves had or if the topic itself was the product of some research that they stumbled upon in their search of information for class. I would greatly like to read about this.

Medulla Oblongata

You ever wonder why I'm always yelling at you? Or when I say things to you I sound like a bitch?

IT'S BECAUSE YOU DESERVE IT

Assfuckwit

If you would stop being a cock-gobbling-gutter-slut for FIIIIIVE fucking minutes and take the time to be a Human instead of being person I might have patience with you. I might reign myself in. But you cannot be Human can you? No, you have to be a person. This base animal that hardly knows how to arrange it's sentences. Ruled by your god damned medulla oblongata. Self gratifying leech upon societies face. And everyone is too busy being PC to do a fucking thing about it.

Yeah. Uh-uh!

You can suck me sideways if you think you don't deserve it. When you stop eating rocks and finally realize that the earth is indeed round - and not like a plate asshole - I will dane to have some sort of warmth within myself for you. Until then you can take a long walk off a short motherfucking pier.

I want you to meet the christmas critters.

I want you to meet the cenobytes.

I want you to meet a thousand nightmares.

Each of which is significantly more horrible than the last. And I want you to know that I know, that I'm watching, that I'm laughing. Because your stupidity has earned you that more than a thousand times over. And I do not care if I am the only one capable of saying this shit to you.

You're selling me out. What I cannot understand is why you do not notice how I sit, idly by. Innocent bystander not at all bothered by the goings on - as if an average customer in an average market. I notice everything about you. Every detail. I suppose it is a human thing.

You see me, but you are not watching.

You hear me, but you are not listening.

You talk, but you never speak to me.

I am tired of speaking to you. I feel like we are different species. I feel like it is universes between us instead of a scant amount of miles. The insanity is that I have met other Humans just as far, if not further, who's heartbeat I can hear in my ears even now. When I go this last time, and my back is turned to you. That will be the last thing you see of Me ever again in all your years. Oh, you will definitely see me around; but by then all you will have of Myself is memory.

And I'll have forgotten you.

What is sad is the fact that you have never known Me. But I have known You since we first met. And sure, I will take the blame for this. I have never been one to worry much about these happenings. The end is as common to me as breathing. I am more designed and much fitter to take that final crushing blow.

Mona Lisa Smile

I am so over it. I've been stuck in this mild hell. Or rather this hell of unearthly proportions. Stuck in this stagnate pool filled with this toxic ooze - all sticky and suffocating. I don't know what's worse about the situation. The fact that I was in it for so long or how I allowed you to manipulate me into it. I am LAUGHABLE. hahahahaha

How patronizingly glorious.

You deserve a highfive.

Fuckface.

I want you to know this is about you. It's all about you. I'm going to take your brick wall and build myself a palace to rule the ages in. So I want to congratulate you for kicking me down. Turns out in the best of times I'm not great. Oh I am a bright star, and there will come a day when you look back and regret. And you WILL regret. But I shine brightest in the darkness. Of which I am quite content to rule. We vampires have stalked the ages watching you mules - and that's all you are for all that we try to revere you for something better - you're nothing but mules. And I am better than you.

And I cannot help but laugh because you will take everything I am saying and make it some personal attack upon your person. And that is what makes me better than you, the fact that it's what you believe. Like I am some phantom given life by your belief in me. Yes, that's right, I am your own personal Jesus.

LAUGH

I know why Mona Lisa smiles

So does the Cheshire

Aciculate

What do I think of her? I don't care. I hate her. I hate you. I want her to DIE. Quit bleeding me out with your rancid bullshit. WHY DO YOU WANT MY FUCKING APPROVAL? Piss off. Stand on your own two feet for FIVE god Damned seconds.

Sometimes I want to string you upon my wall. See Blood Eagle, Norse. I want to skin your face while you sleep. And keep you alive so I can wake you while wearing it. So you'll cry and I can chirrup in the sweet glee as the salt from your tears bores acid trails down your fucking face.

I AM TIRED OF YOUR FUCKING GAMES.

I'm sick of the way you lie. The way you showboat and endeavor to endear yourself to others. Seeking something you don't deserve. When I want fiction I'll read a book.

The thought of you makes me itch. I feel as though all the flesh I have is constricting me, and I know it's not my flesh but thoughts of you. Thick and sticky - like florida air. Some sick sadistic sauna that never shuts off. Burying you, crushing in upon you like some ghoulish additional layer of gravity that shouldn't exist. And the razor I've entombed in my cutis drags so easily along that line displayed in taxidermy guides.

And I'm not sure what's sicker. The fact that the thought of you makes me want to skin myself for fear of suffocation. Or that the blade slicing through to the dermis is the only happiness I know anymore.

And to your shock and horror I am hysterically happy, cackling with glee insurmountable. [Insurmountable - incapable of being overcome]

I'm suckling the blood from my fingers. Tonguing it from my arm. And if I gnaw just a bit harder I'll reach that pulsing beat within these soft tips.

What wounds me is the fact that you will assume this is about you. Because you just cannot help your arrogance. Everything I used to love about you is wearing me down. Before it crumbles to dust I'll make sure to carve out a piece for you to keep. You always had to prove you owned me in the end anyway.

And this life I'm living is a lie. So all I've left to do is throw it all away. What makes me sadder still is the knowledge that in the end it wouldn't make an impact in your life

Cessation depends on inconspicuous intercourse betwixt carotid and steel...

Customers Are People Who's Mother's Medical Plans Should Have Included Abortion

Enraged and pessimistic, bizarrely I seem to excel at customer service jobs. While nine out of ten times I seem to want to watch the customer meet an unholy and bloody gore-filled death, I somehow manage to be polite.

I find this disturbing.

While I am so inclined to kill you with my made-from-scratch-baked-goods they manage to THANK me. I want to eat their faces. Perhaps if they weren’t so fucking mongoloid there wouldn’t be a problem.

CUSTOMERS: When I look at you like your fucking stupid, there is a valid reason!

-Like when you owe me $30 and you hand me a $20 bill. Right. Let me just cover that $10 deficit because I have money justa falling outta my ass!

-I especially love how you think that just because I’m working at a liquor store I am scum. The dirt for you to tread upon. As though I have no plans in my life but to remain here and serve you. Newsflash fuckwad: you are not the center of my universe.

-I also enjoy those fucks who act as though it’s my job to serve them only. So when I’m cleaning the windows they don’t let me know they’re ready - they just huff their disdain loud as a freight train. Fuck your Nazi couch. I have other things that must get done – and no, I did not have eyes installed in the back of my head to serve you.

-These are generally the same fucks that will push their money towards me, as though I’m a prostitute they’re finished with. God forbid they might actually touch me if they handed me the cash. *gasp* they might get my human germs on them. Truly unforgivable.

-These little treasure troves of bullshit are also the ones who will look at the EFT machine to their right. Observe that it is the proper place to slide their debit/credit card and push the card across the counter to me. Apparently I have SLAVE carved upon my forehead.

-Don’t get me wrong, I do not mind if you hand me your card because you overlooked it. You are just fine. It’s the ones who expect me to: slide their card, select the payment type [apparently I have publicly known about ESP], and approve the amount. Sure I’ll approve the amount, for an extra $50 dollars fuckface.

-I also love the genetically deprived cluster of fuckups who come in to shoplift. From me. Especially the old man who steals BOXES of Glenlivet. Sure, that bulging square beneath your coat is natural….right. When I catch you I’m taking your balls cocklick!!

-And you – you mutant-corn-gobbling-zombie-jack-ass – the person who comes in to make my life a living hell. How could I do my job without you!?! This special ray of sunshine whose parents should have settled on masturbation is the “guy” who will come in and berate my prices, my selection – and buy something anyway – so he can berate me.

-Let us not forget that special man! The one who knows you think he’s sexy. Yes that scrawny-missing-teeth-hasn’t-bathed-in-a-year-thinks-milk-is-heavy stud muffin. Boy. You are scrumdiddelyumptious. Let me tell you.

And you wonder why I cringe and swear like a sailor with Tourette’s whenever that bell rings…