…are 50% of the problem.
“Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.” — Buddha
So, the Yankees won the World Series.
Whoop Dee Fucking Doo.
Watch what I can do with about a billion fucking dollars.
Fuck you, Yankees.
You didn’t win shit — you bought it.
You ever been out to a restaurant and get one of those servers who hate their job so much that it’s completely obvious they’re just going through the motions?
Look, we all hate our jobs to some degree. But, what the fuck? They’re working for tips for fuck sake. Can’t they at least try not to be so goddamned obvious?
Just the other day (this is the honest-to-god truth) I had a waitress walk over to my table and ask, “How is everything?”
Seems like a normal question, right? Problem is, the fucktard hadn’t brought me my food yet!!!
Later on, in an attempt to pretend like she gave a shit, I heard her say to a customer, “Wow, the grits look really good today.”
Are you fucking kidding me?!?!? They’re fucking grits! They look like fucking puke…always! They never look “really good.”
Is it really that fucking hard to come up with some bullshit that’s at least half-way believable?
Fuck it. On my way out I told her that her service was “really good.”
Dammit.
I promised myself I would stop drunk-blogging.
What’s up bitches?
Attention: All of you sad little bitches who think you’re cool cause you like the Clash and think London Calling is their best record.
This, my gay little friends, is THE COOLEST CLASH RECORD EVER. And, you are dumb little bitches for thinking otherwise.
I know that most of us are kinda strapped for money right now.
Shit, I’m gonna be jobless in 2 months.
But, I still scraped up a few bucks to help a fellow musician in need.
Last week I posed the question: “What’s the square route of 66?”
Apparently, some fucktard thought I didn’t know how to spell.
It’s a pun, dipshit.
Route 66.
But, hey, good to know there’s at least one jerkoff reading my blog.
McFury - 10/09