Ass lancing bus trips and the mouth that salivates from the smell of ketchup
Soooooo... it is decided. I'll quit... but not before the 2 weeks notice thingie and definately not before Matt goes and explodes Superstore for wasting the past 2 or 3 years of his life. Of course, I'll be watching that at a safe distance with a bag of Old Dutch Ketchup chips.
Eheh... yeah... nobody ever knew that I adore Ketchup chips over BBQ. Ok, BBQ Lays taste better.
Has anybody ever spent 3 hours on a bus? Sitting your ass down on a seat on a bus you've never rode in before, therefore not knowing where the hell you're going, the types of people you will be forced to sit next to, all the while twiddling your thumbs hoping that it will end soon?
Well I rode this bus route, numba 73 in my attempt to find Legends, following the only clue the store dude told me, "Take bus 73." Apparently, if you couldn't tell be the map, it goes all over the fucking city, killing 3 (or maybe it was only 2) hours of your life. My ass after that... well, I guess the whole mechanical torture pear comes to mind. Ok, maybe the soreness wasn't as bad as having my insides ripped to shreds while some exuctioner dude laughs as he twists the pear's knob some more, but it certainly felt that way... ok, I exaggerate. All of this to get away from my depression... well, I guess it worked. I ain't in a corner, spewing tears and eating out of a box of ice cream... hmm... ketchup flavoured ice cream...
Anywho, what really kills the depression is that I've managed to pull 2 Damnation in my pack buying binge, which resulted from said depression. Actually... should I be glad? "Damnation"... umm... maybe it's an ominous sign or something... I guess I'll only truely know when I'm being sucked into a black vortex of hate with some devil at the other end screaming "I fucking exist, n00b!!! Bwahahahahahaha!!!"
I want some ketchup chips right now. I like ketchup. Chips. Chips ketchup. Ketchup chips chips. I have a magical power. I can make ketchup chips dissapear. Just close your eyes, and the bag will be empty. Don't mind the fact that my cheeks will be puffed up like a squirrel's when it's trying to find a place to hide its nuts, or the fact that my lips are a little bit greasy. It will be a magical moment, eh? Like that con artist who claimed he could float and showed off, eh?
Oh, any my old number used to be (403)225-1207. Here, have a number to spam, eh? It prolly belongs to someone else by now, prolly some guy who gets pissed off in a comical way.
Eheh... yeah... nobody ever knew that I adore Ketchup chips over BBQ. Ok, BBQ Lays taste better.
Has anybody ever spent 3 hours on a bus? Sitting your ass down on a seat on a bus you've never rode in before, therefore not knowing where the hell you're going, the types of people you will be forced to sit next to, all the while twiddling your thumbs hoping that it will end soon?
Well I rode this bus route, numba 73 in my attempt to find Legends, following the only clue the store dude told me, "Take bus 73." Apparently, if you couldn't tell be the map, it goes all over the fucking city, killing 3 (or maybe it was only 2) hours of your life. My ass after that... well, I guess the whole mechanical torture pear comes to mind. Ok, maybe the soreness wasn't as bad as having my insides ripped to shreds while some exuctioner dude laughs as he twists the pear's knob some more, but it certainly felt that way... ok, I exaggerate. All of this to get away from my depression... well, I guess it worked. I ain't in a corner, spewing tears and eating out of a box of ice cream... hmm... ketchup flavoured ice cream...
Anywho, what really kills the depression is that I've managed to pull 2 Damnation in my pack buying binge, which resulted from said depression. Actually... should I be glad? "Damnation"... umm... maybe it's an ominous sign or something... I guess I'll only truely know when I'm being sucked into a black vortex of hate with some devil at the other end screaming "I fucking exist, n00b!!! Bwahahahahahaha!!!"
I want some ketchup chips right now. I like ketchup. Chips. Chips ketchup. Ketchup chips chips. I have a magical power. I can make ketchup chips dissapear. Just close your eyes, and the bag will be empty. Don't mind the fact that my cheeks will be puffed up like a squirrel's when it's trying to find a place to hide its nuts, or the fact that my lips are a little bit greasy. It will be a magical moment, eh? Like that con artist who claimed he could float and showed off, eh?
Oh, any my old number used to be (403)225-1207. Here, have a number to spam, eh? It prolly belongs to someone else by now, prolly some guy who gets pissed off in a comical way.