jobs will make you go brain dead.
i can barely type this email since any creativity that i might have
scammpered together over the years has been dashed by costumer service.
there are error correction keys for your brain, just like on a cash
register, and people asking you to purchase things from an
establishment you work at is like someone repeatedly hitting said key.
i like red and orange. error correction. mountains are lovely. error
correction.
i do not know what colors i like, i do not know where my favorite place
to be is.
would you like cream with that?
i go home from work wondering where my dog spot is, my wife, my 2.5
kids, and what on earth i would ever do without primetime tv. there
are newsgroups online for me to discuss my favorite tv shows while i
await eagerly, as one poster put it, "for the best part of my week to
come on". i don't mean to sound abbrasive but what did so-and-so do
with her hair? omygosh, you noticed it too? interactions are subtle and
sweet, but with a little work from all sides, we can cruise through our
days as if on the crash side of a 10 day meth binge. my son is playing
with legos on the floor, clicking in place green red and yellow, but
i'm not sure if i quite got that part, as they stack higher and higher,
i'm thinking of my office building. but why? i hear someone builds the
things around us, but why won't my son just watch some tv with me?
oprah wants to know why an actors beauty was a hard part of their life.
i'm hooked.
ronnie orders coffee all day long. he's building a transport bubble
that has no moving parts, and every day asks if it should use a
joystick or a keyboard. i tell him that it depends on the client. i'm
into it. i make up ideas, but everyday ronnie asks the same question.
i've been tricked by a mental. in the kitchen i lay a tab of acid on
the tip of each index finger and rub my sweating temples with finger
tips.
our special today is beef and barley soup. a cup? sure. that'll be
3.50. i open the cash registrar drawer, and curl up in the quarter bin,
and hang a do not disturb sign around my neck.
i can barely type this email since any creativity that i might have
scammpered together over the years has been dashed by costumer service.
there are error correction keys for your brain, just like on a cash
register, and people asking you to purchase things from an
establishment you work at is like someone repeatedly hitting said key.
i like red and orange. error correction. mountains are lovely. error
correction.
i do not know what colors i like, i do not know where my favorite place
to be is.
would you like cream with that?
i go home from work wondering where my dog spot is, my wife, my 2.5
kids, and what on earth i would ever do without primetime tv. there
are newsgroups online for me to discuss my favorite tv shows while i
await eagerly, as one poster put it, "for the best part of my week to
come on". i don't mean to sound abbrasive but what did so-and-so do
with her hair? omygosh, you noticed it too? interactions are subtle and
sweet, but with a little work from all sides, we can cruise through our
days as if on the crash side of a 10 day meth binge. my son is playing
with legos on the floor, clicking in place green red and yellow, but
i'm not sure if i quite got that part, as they stack higher and higher,
i'm thinking of my office building. but why? i hear someone builds the
things around us, but why won't my son just watch some tv with me?
oprah wants to know why an actors beauty was a hard part of their life.
i'm hooked.
ronnie orders coffee all day long. he's building a transport bubble
that has no moving parts, and every day asks if it should use a
joystick or a keyboard. i tell him that it depends on the client. i'm
into it. i make up ideas, but everyday ronnie asks the same question.
i've been tricked by a mental. in the kitchen i lay a tab of acid on
the tip of each index finger and rub my sweating temples with finger
tips.
our special today is beef and barley soup. a cup? sure. that'll be
3.50. i open the cash registrar drawer, and curl up in the quarter bin,
and hang a do not disturb sign around my neck.