Mutter, mutter, fuckin' stupid people. I can't stand 'em. Mumble, grumble. The world is filled with destructive idiots. Seriously. We're a nightmare as a species. Where is that blowtorch?! Ranty, panty. I wish I hadn't come into work today. I need to sleep for about a quarter century. Frick and frack.

Hump a log. Got to buy my sister a high school graduation present. Why...? Kid's got it better than I ever did. I suppose I should also send her a card. Maybe I'll make one that says something like:

Congratulations! You barely eked out of high school; now your parents are prepared to spend more than I make in a year on art school because you are too fucking dense to go to regular college! GOOD JOB-!

P.S. By the way, your mom stole my dad. Give him back.

I think she's old enough to know now, don't you...?
Fark and quark. Where the hell is my cheese? Who moved it? Fuckaduck. My boob itches.

What a bunch of whacked crap. Look at this shit. These damn kids these days, I tell ya. I'm sitting here on my rent money, like a three-year-old, going NO! You can't have it, landlady - it's mine! I need it! - can barely even keep a roof over my head, right? And these fucktard kids are getting pampered and pedicured and asswaxed for prom and sausaged into these expensive dresses and flown in by helicopter just so they can get fucked by Billy Bonerhead, the captain of the football team, knocked up, and then go on the dole so I can pay for their hellspawn fetal alcohol syndrome baby's Lunchables out of my decent, hard-working, tax-paying ass. And I don't even have money left over to buy lube.

Freak a geek, world doesn't owe me a living. Is there medication for this horse apple-spewing disorder?!

Goddamn people, calling the wrong number for the wrong person in the wrong building.

Fuck it, I'm in too bad a mood to write today. Signing off.

Oh, shti.* Did I just hit "Publish"...?

*can't even spell SHIT today. Fkuc.