Okay... deep breath, chick and another...
Got the 4000 incense sticks picked back up.
Got hold of George.
He's on his way.
And, that TV?
Dead meat. The cats who fucked it up?
Still alive.
SO FAR.
(That CAN change...) (They also barfed on Eric's Nextel radio and BOY did I have FUN cleaning that off.... *disgusted sigh*) Also, as this motherfuckin' PRESSURE slides offa me, I had a moment of lucidity and realized, "Hey. Nobody's dead... though there is a list a mile long I'd like to see fuck off, it's not like Eric got snagged up by anybody "official" and I do have cool people around who're coming to he'p, so I hate the world with the exception of a handfulla people." Y'all and these others I've mentioned. Hell, maybe it's life itself I'm beginning to hate.
I dunno.
All I know is that being "good" dosen't mean shit to any forces of the Universe and my biceps are physically aching to beat this shit outta something and that none of this means shit in the real world, where the government can and does get involved in private family business and the same government/judicial system is basically starving a woman to death, when if she were an animal, she'd be "put to sleep", but nah... fuck 'er. Let's just starve her to death. Sanctity of life my aching ass. Life sucks now, let alone when it's like that lady's is. My take on that whole deal is this: If ya ain't part of her family, it's nunya fuckin' business and all these assholes writing about it, fighting about it and ultimately killing her are useless. If ya ain't part of the solution, yer definitely part of the problem. And, a "problem" is what Terry is dealing with, not this HORSESHIT I got hit with this mornin'.
BUT...
It still pisses me da fuck off. So shoot me.
Please.
Ooorrrr.... jes' let me borrow a gun for a few...
*evil grin*
Hell, after I got done shootin' the car and the TV fulla holes, there'd be no ammo left for people.
Sooo, I guess I'd just have to bash 'em to death with the other end.
This CAN be done. If I had a gun, that is. Aw, fuck it.
I've got better'n a gun.
I have a huge stick.
More "personal" that way, anyway, which IS how I'm taking alla this crap... veeeery "personally". "Tom, this is business and this person (Michael, in the movie but ME in this instance) is taking it veeerrry personally..." I'm right outta the fuckin' "Godfather", ain't I? Oh, what I'd give to have one a those.
I'd kiss his ring all right. I'd kiss his literal ASS to get done the shit I need to have done. Anyway... before I go off into "FantasyLand", I'm gonna go make a few phone calls.
We've narrowed it down to the fuel pump.
Which, if I'm not mistaken is INSIDE the gas tank and just who in the name of almighty FUCK thought THAT was a "good" idea?
Numbfuck, stupid ass MALE car designers, I suppose.
Buncha dickheaded idiots. Thanks a pantload, Dudes.
You SUCK.
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