November 28, 2005
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A boggering blog-er-ing
Thank you Sons of the Pioneers.
Just a few things to clear up/catch up: Eric, I know that my posts are becoming tedious. So is being inside of my head. Dan, thank you for voicing your appreciation. And I heartily concur with you about productivity and creative outlets.
As for the rest of things, well, it’s been a blue funk of a weekend. So I’m now working for a company that I’m too prideful to name on my blog. Even my parents were shocked to hear that I had acquired work from said company. Be that as it may, my intentions are to either milk it for it’s worth hour wise for the present—until I get past the bills and projects at the end of the month and then go out and find a “real job”—thus retaining the option to stay where I’m at currently as part-time for extra cash flow, or hopefully get a call from Comfort Group sometime in the next two weeks. Something tells me that the latter won’t happen, and that the harsh reality of the matter is I am stuck working at a place I used to disdain the employees of said establishment.
In the words of Beth, Karma’s a bitch.
Comments (6)
Sorry that you dislike your new job . . .
Okay, okay, replies (there are a rediculous amount):
You are not 50 years-old. I believe your young age.
You are not a communist.
You are not hideous. Hideousness is rot on the inside – smothering anger and hate. It comes forth as hideousness in everything BUT physical form – actions, attitudes and words. I was merely hypothesising earlier.
I appreciate your openness to let me talk, and one day I might take you up on that.
Ecclesiates is such a beautiful book - one of my favorites, next to Psalms and Revelation. Just teasing about the comparison.
I am a mere well-read thesbian. Cannot claim any royal British ancestry. But I am sure Prince William can overlook that slight drawback in marriage . . . .
We are all perverts, in an older, clearer since of the word. Meaning more of “distortion” or “warping” what is right and good.
There is always a sour, bitter side to love. Hence, “pickles”. And besides, the term randomly popped into my cranium, why not use it?
Love and Mustard – Kait – - Ecc 3:11
My great-grandmother purportedly had an affair with one of the Sons of the Pioneers.
Do they make you wear the tight little orange shorts at Hooters?
Everything Dan says is true. Ignore everything I tell you from this point forward.
little_miss_dramachick – he just turned 20. This will become clear as you read his blog, unless of course, you are 20ish as well.
Tom, sometimes I say the things I say to spurn you into action. My words are never meant as a suggestion of cessation. I’m glad to see you chose the former.
Hope you had a great Thanksgiving with your family. I had a FANTASTIC four-full-days off of work.
Keep on r0ckin, dude.
That’s nice that you so freely share information about your great-grandmother.
Yes, they make us wear the little orange shorts at Hooters. Lots of girls have been rubbing on my ass…a few guys too.
I didn’t say that what you said isn’t true. I just vhemently disagree with your assesment of Man on Fire and was under the impression that you either wern’t awake, was irraitated with the family, under the influence, or decided to spurn me to action. I choose a non-confrontational path.
I’ve been 20 for a quarter of a year now, thank you very much.
I’m not sure what acion I was spurned into, but I’ll give you the credit for it anyway.
Thanksgiving wasn’t as good as it could have been. I left early and was depressed most of the weekend as usual. I noticed that you wern’t on-line Friday and therefore assumed that you were kickin’ it with da wifey n’ kids n’ shitz, yo! Otherwise, I would have called and wished you a Happy Turkey Day.
I r0ck harder when you post comments on my blog.
Hello Danzig my old friend
I post to chat with you again
Because Tomas is be-moan-ing
His pathetic little blog-ring
And the vision, he draws inside my head
Makes me feel dead
Within the grasp, of darkness.
Now that I finally catch the tune…
give me some time to formulate an apporpriate response.
Dear TOM….LIFE IS A BIOTCH…severly…I know it…
H3R3′s a Poem For you
Dead women tells no tale so kill the bitch
fallin in love with mirror images
you speak sour words like they’re destined to blossom
let them grow into flowers
so we can know that those words will die soon
i’m tired of the bitchen surely you’re not the bitch
that tell tales
stop fallin in love with ideal dwells
gals that serve other men
calm those frosty thoughts and warm yourself with gin
not a tonic man well go ahead kill the bitch
stop complaining about life
here’s ur wrist now slit it…
put urself out of the misery that you bestow
on the kind hearted humane people the you pour ur views out too
we try to be understanding not overwhelming
trying to show companionship to be a friend
but if you keep speaking the same thing over and over again
we get sick and hand you that gun
with a not asking for an end
…in all and fun trust me karma is a bitch
so slit it, taste it, and fuck it.
“but pls don’t love it”
keep it real dude…1