Where are you?
Alright people.
It's been like, nine hours and still no one's replied to any of my messages. I hate you all and I'm going to spend the rest of my day crying and playing with pointy objects, mmmmkay?
It froze last night, and all that fun snow we had yesterday got rained on and now has turned to solid, deadly, shiny, cold, slippery ice! And so, again, I'll be spending my day working on my office ass, plopped on this un-ergonomic chair, staring at my email waiting for you bastards to say something, anything to me.
I paid six dollars!!!
In other news, my skylight is frozen. Meteorologist Jack Sprat (Yes, he actually lives on a meteor) confirmed that the ice build up was due to a combination of precipiation and cold temperatures. Let's go live to my roof now.
"Jack, Jack can you hear me?"
"Yes, Drew! I can barely make you out!"
"Jack, can you tell us a little bit about what the conditions are like out there?"
"Well, Drew, well, the air is very cold, we've got steady winds at five knots gusting to seven fathoms. Your roof is well, frozen, and it looks like someone did a very poor job replacing some lost shingles."
"Whoa! Jack, no one asked you about shingle repairs! This isn't fucking...I can't say "fucking" on the...no? Okay, this isn't Trading Spaces you Assho...can't say that either? Why don't you go...no...okay, anyways, Jack let's just stick to the weather!
"Drew! Wow, it's really getting windy up here! We're now looking at zephyrs in the range of 82 to 100 degrees! I'm having a hard time standing up, especially on this slippery and poorly maintained roof! You should really go to your local North Carolina-based Home Improvement Warehouse and..."
"NEVER SPEAK OF THAT PLACE!!!"
"Yes, so anyways, these look like 3-tab Desert Tan shingles...I think the problem is that you failed to nail them correctly...
hey, how'd you get on location so fast? Wow, that's amazing, hey what are you..."
"Yes, I'll be taking over here, our on location reporter, Jack Sprat has fallen victim to some kind of mysterious foul plot."
"You blugeoned me with a frozen squirrel!"
"You know, I don't think so."
Don't you see, people? In lieu of no one posting any comments, I'm forced to have conversations with imaginary characters. This might prove useful in my Fiction Writing class this quarter, but other than that, it's not doing a whole lot of good. So, write back soon everyone!
It's been like, nine hours and still no one's replied to any of my messages. I hate you all and I'm going to spend the rest of my day crying and playing with pointy objects, mmmmkay?
It froze last night, and all that fun snow we had yesterday got rained on and now has turned to solid, deadly, shiny, cold, slippery ice! And so, again, I'll be spending my day working on my office ass, plopped on this un-ergonomic chair, staring at my email waiting for you bastards to say something, anything to me.
I paid six dollars!!!
In other news, my skylight is frozen. Meteorologist Jack Sprat (Yes, he actually lives on a meteor) confirmed that the ice build up was due to a combination of precipiation and cold temperatures. Let's go live to my roof now.
"Jack, Jack can you hear me?"
"Yes, Drew! I can barely make you out!"
"Jack, can you tell us a little bit about what the conditions are like out there?"
"Well, Drew, well, the air is very cold, we've got steady winds at five knots gusting to seven fathoms. Your roof is well, frozen, and it looks like someone did a very poor job replacing some lost shingles."
"Whoa! Jack, no one asked you about shingle repairs! This isn't fucking...I can't say "fucking" on the...no? Okay, this isn't Trading Spaces you Assho...can't say that either? Why don't you go...no...okay, anyways, Jack let's just stick to the weather!
"Drew! Wow, it's really getting windy up here! We're now looking at zephyrs in the range of 82 to 100 degrees! I'm having a hard time standing up, especially on this slippery and poorly maintained roof! You should really go to your local North Carolina-based Home Improvement Warehouse and..."
"NEVER SPEAK OF THAT PLACE!!!"
"Yes, so anyways, these look like 3-tab Desert Tan shingles...I think the problem is that you failed to nail them correctly...
hey, how'd you get on location so fast? Wow, that's amazing, hey what are you..."
"Yes, I'll be taking over here, our on location reporter, Jack Sprat has fallen victim to some kind of mysterious foul plot."
"You blugeoned me with a frozen squirrel!"
"You know, I don't think so."
Don't you see, people? In lieu of no one posting any comments, I'm forced to have conversations with imaginary characters. This might prove useful in my Fiction Writing class this quarter, but other than that, it's not doing a whole lot of good. So, write back soon everyone!