he sells miracle water. fucking miracle water.

inside edition doesn’t think very highly of him.

kind of a tool. at least, apparently, he has chicken.

Tonight is one of those christingly annoying times.
If jesus were here (and I believed in him) I would kick him in the shins. He’s not (and I don’t), so instead I will take out my frustration on the rest of the world by half-heartedly glaring out over the top of my whiskey glass at a mostly empty bar of drunkards who are completely undeserving of my ire.

Grumble, grumble.. kick.. shins..

and yes, perhaps i’ve had a bit too much to drink before arriving here at the almighty complex of the big H warehouse. i might be a bit too tipsy to perform my duties as a security officer, but i find no conflict between my drinking and my work expectations. i believe that i’m less likely to perform to my peak security officer abilities when i’m sober. either way, i would like to begin by telling you the following:
i drank whiskey for breakfast. this makes me want to share more flogging molly lyrics with you:

I sit in and dwell on faces past
Like memories seem to fade
No colour left but black and white
And soon will all turn grey
But may these shadows rise to walk again
With lessons truly learnt
When the blossom flowers in each our hearts
Shall beat a new found flame

Must it take a life for hateful eyes
To glisten once again
Cause we find ourselves in the same old mess
Singin’ drunken lullabies
-from Drunken Lullabies, on Whiskey on a Sunday

ahh, sometimes those lines make me laugh and sometimes they make me cry.

i would also like you to know that i sang bohemian rhapsody this morning while drinking my breakfast. it was a pretty swell atmosphere and a rather jolly time to be had by the whole bar. i think i’d like to visit ruskies for breakfast more often. next time, though, i think i’ll stick to a more traditional breakfast. there was barage of 90s hits which i either sang along with or just listened to while remembering swell days of high school and innocence. ahh, but no tears, chris, you’re a dork.

so now, i sit at work and i deal with the bottom feeders of society. by this, of course, i mean my coworkers. i could make a crack or two about truck drivers, but the truth is i won’t actually interact with many of those today, instead, i’ll work with halfwit security monkeyfuckers until the 1st shift mongoloids leave sometime around 1600. that’s how we say it in the business – 1600, not 4 o’ clock. 1600 because it’s official and accurate and elitist. i like it. so now it’s 1440 and i’ve got about an hour and twenty minutes of dealing with mr asperger’s before he finally decides to stop pestering me with the trivialities of a life i could never possibly force myself to care about.
he will leave and the sun will shine.
until then, i will type passive-aggressive blog posts about him because i’m either too nice or too cowardly to sit him down and calmly explain to him that no one anywhere has ever cared about anything he’s ever had to say. and no one ever will. instead, i will calmly smile and wish for his death as he relates to me all the mundane and useless details of his pointless and boring life. and i will hate.
and hate.
and hate.

but enough about that, let’s talk about this
and this
and this

too dreary for an early morning day-of-the-lord post? probably right.

how about this
fuck yeah!

jesus rocks