Tuesday, May 24, 2005


JUST NOW, a woman I work with chewed me out because her mail was two weeks late and she couldn't take her evil spawn to some premiere or the other.

Look here, Little Miss WIC-in-Waiting:

a) I do not get the mail. Our driver was on jury duty.
b) If you really wanted it, you should have had it sent to your home.
c) Do not be trying to shaft your personal bullcrap on me.
d) You spread for some nose-honking clown, and spawned several mini-assclowns. It is your own fault. SUFFER.

Normally I am nicer to her because her kids look like The Devil. I am serious. They have squinty eyes and red hair like Malachai from Children of the Corn (no offense to Courtney Gains, who is a sweetheart.)

The Devil-ettes are on that jr. high pep squad dealie you don't have to try out for, they just let any mini-cow who wants to cheer, cheer. Which I figure they should enjoy while they can, before they get to high school and find out they are butt-ugly.

I hate people who act like you should feel obligated to help raise their village idiots.


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