Monday, January 15, 2007


It's nearly four pm, and I have every friggin printer in the place churning out pages and pages of 2006 BULLSHIT. This had been my day, up to this point: W2's, QT Reports, EOY, EOM, FI ST, WTF? Uooohhhhhh-HAUL. I cannot pay, unless i Don't pay others, I have bills, sure, use my card. Why not? I know you don't mean to be a problem, and you aren't. Not any more than anyone else, do I still need chickens? Of course I do. FOR SUNDAY. Where is your head? Haircut? Why the hell not, no I can't call him and get him back here so he can drive to Newton. Sure, she can go, I will answer the Phone. If it involves MR. LANE, well then, say no more. Oh, you wanted us to FIX it, I only promised that we would WORK on it. It's Lemon Broccoli Chicken, of course it's good, do I usually bring you SHIT for lunch? Of course not, no potatoes, yes, I know you need to lose weight, or you won't fit in "MY CAH's JUNK's" sprint car. What the hell was I thinking? Oh, you can only work in the AFTERNOON, I forgot you had to work out and play ball. I am happy you got a job, even if it's only for two hours tomorrow. Only 95 more pages to go..... Just think: Only four more hours until I can drink.

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