Everyone talks about having premonitions. I have premonitions everyday. I call it OCD. Anyone who knows me knows I have to check my trunk 5000 times before pulling out of a parking lot. Just imagine what I have to go through before going to a job interview. But today, I did not have any premonitions and did not check my trunk and then drove right across the city with my trunk open. Yeah. And your like, oh, she's just going to get worse now. No. I'm not. Screw it. I slept 12 hours. I worked out for 3. Screw the damn trunk. Screw the non-existent goiter I have on my face. Screw my zipper or shoelaces. Screw my dilated pupils I always think I have. Screw the boring conversation I'm having with you, I'm just going to blurt out whatever is on my mind. Like, I don't care that your a teacher and you love children. You just won't shut up, this conversation is boring, and you have no intentions of buying me a drink to compensate for my pain. Now, you haven't shut up for 3 hours. So bye, fuck off, I'm leaving. And, oh my god, Mr. Oilrig dude and your stupid shoulder. Your so not cool and you complain too much. Oh, and your ugly. You shouldn't have introduced me to your part of town because now the waitress is going to spit in your food everytime you go there or anywhere else. She hates you and thinks I'm prettier, so bleh!!!!!! (you can be pretty, too, if you tip good). Mr. I'm so hungry I'm going to have, get this, french fries. Cheapass. And those are going straight to your big fat ass, too. Did you even spring for gravy? I don't think you did. You obviously don't care that your fat, but I guess your just a cheapass. Should I even mention yellow taxi or chemical engineer dude x 2? Nah, I'll save that for another day. I've got lots of those stories.
See, this is how OCD works. We no longer have to spend all day chasing down a gazelle and kill it with our bare hands. I don't even know what a gazelle is, I just figured it's prehistoric and fits into my story. Please don't correct me, that's annoying and wrong and I'll hate you for it. And we no longer have to spend back-breaking hours working in a factory or plowing the fields (lol. Don't say it!!! Your so rude...) without the machinery and technology we have today. We sit in cubicles all day, we have to account for every second we go to the washroom or smoke a cigarette or, omigod, have a joint to cope with the extreme mundaneness and hopelessness of our working lives. If we are not particularly liked at work or we don't particularly like work, we have to worry about every word that comes out of our mouths (I obviously don't worry too much about that or I would have a job right now). Customers and supervisors and managers and any rich dude on the face of the planet is always right, even when they are ridiculously wrong. Like, "have my plane ready in Kandahar in 1 hour". Now, really, how is that going to work? Your plane is in New York. Should I split an atom and change the formation of the earth for you? Because, really, I only make $12 an hour, I don't see how that could possibly be in my job description. But hey, I'm a team player. However, I did not contribute to the $1000 baby shower present the office gave to some guy I don't know and wasn't even invited to the baby shower and the pilot thinks I'm stupid because I think he's ugly. That could change the dynamics of what you consider a team player. Anyhow, the point of my story is, we have unused energy that needs burned off before it eats our brain and we all become neurotic fat people with bad hair. And it's really all about the hair for me.
Yes, I might never have another date again (well, not with the same guy anyway) nor will I probably ever work again, but at least I won't be checking my trunk anymore. And I can work on my hair. Yeah, it's all about the hair. It really is.
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Engineers are the worst. I think the worst part about it is that they don't even understand why people can't stand them. They're all like.. you just make fun of me cause you're jealous of the fact that I am an engineer. NO, people make fun of you cause you are pompous, know-it-all assholes. And to top it off, you are completely socially awkward.
ReplyDeleteI was out drinking one night and convinced my friend to give me his engineering ring off his pinky. I ate it. True story.
Then I gave it back to him a couple days later.
Dude! That means you had to dig through your own poo! Blehhhhhhh. I would do that, but only if it came out my butt clean. I think I could arrange that, don't eat for a few days, go on a cleansing diet, then eat a ring.
ReplyDeleteEngineers tend to just want to hump your leg. I can't speak for all engineers, but I dated 3, and they all tried humping my leg. The left one, the kicking leg.