Monday, May 23, 2005


You know those stupid fake Indian dreamcatchers, that are supposed to filter out your bad dreams or some crap...?

Yeah, well, around here, I'm the shitcatcher.

Even though I have absolutely nothing to do with these things, I have to hear people bitch about them.

Can't find parking? I catch shit.
In a bad mood with your boss? I catch shit.
Your printer isn't working? I catch shit.
The IT department sucks? I catch shit.
Your pad is riding up in a wad? I catch shit.
The phones are down? I catch shit.
Your kid is a teenage fuckhead with an attitude problem? I catch shit.
Your dog took a big, steaming dump on the floor because you didn't walk him in time? I catch (and smell) shit.
You got a bad haircut? I catch shit. Then, I have to look at you.
An actor wants a ham sandwich? I catch shit.
They are running late on set because the anorexic actress is M.I.A. and is snorting coke off a toilet seat in a trailer somewhere? I catch shit.
Got a problem with the drinky-drinky? I catch shit.
You don't like the weather? I catch shit.
Couldn't get laid if you stapled Brad Pitt to your schlong? I catch shit.
A stitch in time saves nine? I catch shit.
The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plane? I catch shit.
Somewhere it Utah, a gnat queefed in some Mormon's soup? I catch shit.

You get the idea.

Got a problem? Try not to bitch at the person who is tethered to her desk, so she can't do anything about it even if she did give a hot (or even a lukewarm) damn.

Thank you.


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