Disjointed thoughts

Maya says I have a funny accent. I say she breathes too much city air and is full of herself.

Apparently I drove all the way to the comic book store with a seized brake caliper. My tire was smoking when I got back to work. That's bad. Guess I know as much about cars as I do about women (hint: enough to break them AND NOTHING ELSE).

There's a dead bird outside on the sidewalk with its heart ripped out. If it hadn't smelled so bad, it would have been cool. I took a picture, but you don't want to see. To anyone in the vicinity: stay vigilant. I believe there may be a squirrel close to attaining immortality.

Speaking of squirrels, there was another one in my office this morning. Little fuckers aren't even scared anymore. Contemplating leaving some crackers out on my coworkers desk....

And now, some announcements.

To the creepy guy at the comic shop: please don't hit on me anymore. :(

To the asshole woman at Taco Bell: when I say "put nacho cheese on it", that's exactly what I mean, no explanation needed. Next time you ask, "What do you mean, put nacho cheese on it?" I'll get your food stamps taken away.

To the person who writes in chicken scratch: I cannot read your writing, therefore two things will not occur. One, I can't do what you ask. And two, I can't call you to ask you to decipher. If it's important, get with the times and send an email (or at least a phone call).

To the person who works in my building who is having chemo today on their birthday: that sucks, dude!

Did this deserve a new post? Probably not, but I don't want to do any work right now.

Go fuck yourselves,
Greg