The Manatee and Me
I've changed my mind about hating manatees. I actually kind of like them: it's nice to know that there is something out there more retarded and useless than I will ever be in my life. Yeah, I'll admit, I'm pretty high up there on both the "retarded" and "useless" scales, but you know what? No matter how hard I try, I'll never be as fucking worthless as a god-damned manatee.
The day I turn into such a fat piece of shit that I start spending all my time rolling around in smelly fucking canals and eating people's leftover cabbage is the day I'll just go ahead and choke myself to death with a plastic grocery bag. And I'm sure that bag will come from a Publix.
So, yeah, I'll say it. I love manatees. I fucking love those fat, retarded, ugly, smelly, disgusting pieces of shit. They're my fucking heroes, thank God for fucking manatees. If it weren't for them, I'd have nothing to gauge my shitty life by. Thank you, manatees, for helping me feel better about myself.
I got another job. Now I'll be working at Ace Hardware and Publix (Albertsons for anyone in Oregon). Which is cool, I guess. Except that I've been pressured beyond fucking belief by everybody I fucking know to "Get a job as soon as possible," to the point that I would rather rip my own eyes from their sockets than listen to anybody else say anything,at all, about working. So now, instead of the right job, that, no matter how bad it sucks, will at least pay enough for me to get a car/my own place/go to school, I got hired by Publix. Which, again, is great, except that it pays a whopping $0.75 an hour more than Ace and everyone I know who has ever worked there wanted to kill themselves.
To be honest, though, the job itself isn't the problem. The problem is everyone telling me to do the exact opposite of the last thing they told me to do, and wanting it done right fucking now. I'm so sick of "employment advice" that when somebody tells me "You need to apply at _____" I can actually feel their voice scraping like fucking 80 grit sandpaper across my fucking psyche. I am so tweaked out at this fuckin point that the aforementioned 'eye-ripping' is quickly becoming a possibility.
FUCK!
The day I turn into such a fat piece of shit that I start spending all my time rolling around in smelly fucking canals and eating people's leftover cabbage is the day I'll just go ahead and choke myself to death with a plastic grocery bag. And I'm sure that bag will come from a Publix.
So, yeah, I'll say it. I love manatees. I fucking love those fat, retarded, ugly, smelly, disgusting pieces of shit. They're my fucking heroes, thank God for fucking manatees. If it weren't for them, I'd have nothing to gauge my shitty life by. Thank you, manatees, for helping me feel better about myself.
I got another job. Now I'll be working at Ace Hardware and Publix (Albertsons for anyone in Oregon). Which is cool, I guess. Except that I've been pressured beyond fucking belief by everybody I fucking know to "Get a job as soon as possible," to the point that I would rather rip my own eyes from their sockets than listen to anybody else say anything,at all, about working. So now, instead of the right job, that, no matter how bad it sucks, will at least pay enough for me to get a car/my own place/go to school, I got hired by Publix. Which, again, is great, except that it pays a whopping $0.75 an hour more than Ace and everyone I know who has ever worked there wanted to kill themselves.
To be honest, though, the job itself isn't the problem. The problem is everyone telling me to do the exact opposite of the last thing they told me to do, and wanting it done right fucking now. I'm so sick of "employment advice" that when somebody tells me "You need to apply at _____" I can actually feel their voice scraping like fucking 80 grit sandpaper across my fucking psyche. I am so tweaked out at this fuckin point that the aforementioned 'eye-ripping' is quickly becoming a possibility.
FUCK!