Really.
Today at Coney Island, I spent 20 minutes thinking about what would happen if the seaweed became possessed and came together unanimously to smother me. Freaked out by myself, I went onto the beach and laid down on the towel. Then an umbrella ran me over.
Really?
I thought that was cool. You don't get run over by an umbrella everyday.
And the bitch who's umbrella ran away didn't even run after the nomadic umbrella. She sat there and asked if I could get her umbrella.
Seriously? Could you get any lazier? If you can't put an umbrella in the sand, you should be able to run and get it.
Today, my supervisor called. He said that more documents came in and that I should go in tomorrow.
I can't wait to unstaple papers for minimum wage all day.
He also said that I will be fired if I keep missing staples.
Listen roody-poo. All you do is play solitaire and come in drunk. I'd like to see you look through a box of papers and find EVERY staple.
What ever, one day I'll be rich. Unlike this song, I won't be able to buy by parent's house, as they have apartments. But I will be able to purchase sweaters and instruct dance as these lyrics suggest.
No comments:
Post a Comment