Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz

Brevity, it would seem, is the word of the day.

I find it ironic that the more I have to document, at least from a literal point of view, the less I sit down and pound my life into this keyboard.

More high-stress, volatile Chaos in the Workplace. To the casual observer all would seem normal, but there’s blood in the water now. Things are bound to Happen, and they are no doubt beyond the scope of one lowly intern, so I shall leave them be. No more of that messy talk, let’s move on.

Another person I went to high school with had a kid, bringing the world total of inept parents into somewhere in the three billions. When the revolution comes and I rule by divine right and popular demand, people will need permits to have children. You need a license to drive, you need a license to own a god damn dog, yet any old assbag can go out and procreate till their heart’s content. What kind of back asswards reasoning is that? You know what’s more complicated than a dog? A god damn little person. I wouldn’t even mind so much, except I know your filthy, warped larvae are gonna go to school with my gifted and obedient progeny a few years down the road and will be a terrible influence.

There is a mosquitohawk the size of a flamingo crashing around my room right now. It’s huge and angry and just challenged me to a game of NBA Street. I will not abide such horseshit in my house and lord help you, you demon-bug bastard, once I find my hockey stick.

*Time passes*

Crisis resolved. The bastard escaped with a sixpack of Coors Light, my car keys, and a broken wing, but at least he’s not gonna wreck the ceiling fan or kick over my monitor again. I’m not worried; I’ve never known an insect that could drive a manual transmission.

I’m expecting great things from this coming weekend. San Diego is a town of good times, and I fully expect to Party Hard. Granted, the Southerners of our fair state leave a lot to be desired in the ways of intellect and spirit, but I’m not going down there for heated debate or earth-shattering revelations, now am I. They may be a strange and foreign people with the depth of a kiddie pool and the moral perspective of fruit bats, but they certainly know how to have a good time. Someone once said (Mark Helprin, I think) that people from warm climates have no character, and perhaps he’s right. How to explain Canada, though…

I’m out of my depth for a week night. Your homework is to listen to the conversations of people you don’t know and if they say something brazenly stupid or ignorant, call them on it. Mercilessly. Good luck, children.

tomorrow is just another day
-T.

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