I hate you guys... I really do.
Yeah, so last night was talent night here at my building. I hate talent night. I hate the roommate game. I hate any and all events where we have to move furniture and/or the stages in order to make the event work. It's just that well, some of my coworkers just don't want to actively engage the muscles that nature intended them to use. So thus, they sit on the sidelines and watch us move everything, and comment on where stuff should go, etc.
This of course makes me angry.
And because talent night was such a wonderful success, everyone who wanted to go was done in like an hour and a half. Done, completely. And of course, that sucked. So we tried to stall. My boss sang. And I got on stage to rant about crap and tell a funny story. This went over like a puppy thrown into a river in a burlap sack. Full of bricks.
I killed the talent night. Why? Because I have NO TALENT!
That's right folks, I have no talent. On an individual basis, I can make anyone laugh. But in front of a large group of people, I suck balls. So I decided that it was time for everyone to go home, including me. So I killed it, then raped the corpse a little just for good measure.
But we weren't done with talent night. NOOOOO! Not by any definintion of a long shot. We've got a coworker and his fraternity brother doing a miniture step show for us. Which means in turn I can't leave yet.
Ten minutes later, we're picking up the couches and chairs, and I'm wanting to destroy someone. Thirty minutes later I'm driving around ranting to a friend of mine about work, and how I hate it so much.
An hour later, I'm back in my room talking to my girlfriend on the phone.
Let's fast-forward to 5AM, shall we? See, I went to sleep at a sold 12:45-1:00AM time frame. I know this because the last thing I remember looking at was the alarm clock above my TV from the couch, where I have taken to sleeping lately. And then, I woke up. I woke up of course with an idea for a song in a musical about death. And hell.
So, in recognition of my non-talent dumb freaking self, I give you a part of my newest opus, "The Cold Fingers of Death"
Maestro, if you please...
I wanna make a big deal out of death,
I wanna make a scene out of my last breath.
The only thing that keeps me here,
is the sacred fear,
of going straight to hell for all my crimes...
[I haven't decided what to do for a chorus yet, so give me a break.]
There's only suicide,
That kills his grand design.
So maybe I can live in bliss,
In hell where I exist
with the knowledge that I
turned his plans to shit.
[So still no chorus. But I think the rockettes should show up here. Or the demon equivalent.]
And of course, because my brain is a evil demon itself, I could not fall back asleep for more than 45 minutes at a time. And there I am on my couch, half awake watching whatever is on Showtime during this time of the morning. Which is of course, nothing.
I'll tell you something else too, if I wasted 4 bucks a month for Showtime and there isn't a new season of Huff because the executives are a bunch of snooty fucks, I'm going to be really pissed off. That 4 bucks a month could get me, something. It used to get me a pack of cigarettes. Now it gets me a gallon and a half of gas. Fucking pathetic.
This whole quitting thing better be worth it in the next few weeks, because if it's going to be sleeping on-again off-again for the rest of my life, I'm going to be in a really bad grumpy mcgrumpster mood.
Speaking of Mcsomethings, check out the new McRevolution t-shirt I got in the mail. Not the one I just got, but the link for buying it. Which is just as cool. I should submit my guitar gnome idea. Hmmmm. . . . Nah, it would never make any money.
I think I am going to go stick my head in the shower at some point to get the crustiness off of me. Ewww, crustiness.
Oh, did I also mention that Cap'n'Crunch is the shit? Fo shizzle mai nizzle.
This of course makes me angry.
And because talent night was such a wonderful success, everyone who wanted to go was done in like an hour and a half. Done, completely. And of course, that sucked. So we tried to stall. My boss sang. And I got on stage to rant about crap and tell a funny story. This went over like a puppy thrown into a river in a burlap sack. Full of bricks.
I killed the talent night. Why? Because I have NO TALENT!
That's right folks, I have no talent. On an individual basis, I can make anyone laugh. But in front of a large group of people, I suck balls. So I decided that it was time for everyone to go home, including me. So I killed it, then raped the corpse a little just for good measure.
But we weren't done with talent night. NOOOOO! Not by any definintion of a long shot. We've got a coworker and his fraternity brother doing a miniture step show for us. Which means in turn I can't leave yet.
Ten minutes later, we're picking up the couches and chairs, and I'm wanting to destroy someone. Thirty minutes later I'm driving around ranting to a friend of mine about work, and how I hate it so much.
An hour later, I'm back in my room talking to my girlfriend on the phone.
Let's fast-forward to 5AM, shall we? See, I went to sleep at a sold 12:45-1:00AM time frame. I know this because the last thing I remember looking at was the alarm clock above my TV from the couch, where I have taken to sleeping lately. And then, I woke up. I woke up of course with an idea for a song in a musical about death. And hell.
So, in recognition of my non-talent dumb freaking self, I give you a part of my newest opus, "The Cold Fingers of Death"
Maestro, if you please...
I wanna make a big deal out of death,
I wanna make a scene out of my last breath.
The only thing that keeps me here,
is the sacred fear,
of going straight to hell for all my crimes...
[I haven't decided what to do for a chorus yet, so give me a break.]
There's only suicide,
That kills his grand design.
So maybe I can live in bliss,
In hell where I exist
with the knowledge that I
turned his plans to shit.
[So still no chorus. But I think the rockettes should show up here. Or the demon equivalent.]
And of course, because my brain is a evil demon itself, I could not fall back asleep for more than 45 minutes at a time. And there I am on my couch, half awake watching whatever is on Showtime during this time of the morning. Which is of course, nothing.
I'll tell you something else too, if I wasted 4 bucks a month for Showtime and there isn't a new season of Huff because the executives are a bunch of snooty fucks, I'm going to be really pissed off. That 4 bucks a month could get me, something. It used to get me a pack of cigarettes. Now it gets me a gallon and a half of gas. Fucking pathetic.
This whole quitting thing better be worth it in the next few weeks, because if it's going to be sleeping on-again off-again for the rest of my life, I'm going to be in a really bad grumpy mcgrumpster mood.
Speaking of Mcsomethings, check out the new McRevolution t-shirt I got in the mail. Not the one I just got, but the link for buying it. Which is just as cool. I should submit my guitar gnome idea. Hmmmm. . . . Nah, it would never make any money.
I think I am going to go stick my head in the shower at some point to get the crustiness off of me. Ewww, crustiness.
Oh, did I also mention that Cap'n'Crunch is the shit? Fo shizzle mai nizzle.