Willy, my dog, is gay. Sadly, I have evidence of this. Yesterday I caught him frolicking with a black and white border collie. Willy mounted the dog and looked up at the sky as he humped. The day before that, a pomeranian with a rainbow pattern collar paddled over to Willy and proceeded to lick his wiener. Willy was courteous enough to return the favor.
My problem with Willy's gayness is it puts me in an awkward position. Whenever I pet him, and my hand strays south of the border, I have to be extra careful not to touch or even brush his plumbing. Also, when I pet him in my lap and he burrows his face in my crotch I can't help but wonder whether he's offering his canine services. The worst is when we make eye contact while he licks his balls.
I will sloth around in LA for a bit. After which, I intend on slothing further elsewhere.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Saturday, August 23, 2008
# of Days Since Last Employment: 1
So they showed me the door yesterday. Apparently they were concerned that I was bad for morale. Shortly after I resigned, another one of my crew went with me. Yeah, that's how my ppl roll. If his ten key needed an ink cartridge, I was already in the supply room. I knew they'd do the same if it was my adding machine malfunctioning.
They spun it to the rest of the office by telling everybody that I wanted to leave so they decided to let me go home early. I didn't realize until I got home that HR's letter had magically superceded my resignation letter and transformed it into a termination letter! Hey bitch, you didn't dump me, I dumped you! You can't preemptively dump me, I already dumped you. You're living in a delusion.
I've tried reminding myself why I quit in the first place, and of all the benefits I have to gain from escaping the clutches of corporate socialism. I repeat it constantly. It's OCD though. No matter how many times those crazy fuckers count locks or wash their hands, they still don't feel clean or safe.
Tomorrow, I am getting my blood. My last fillup until I find another job that provides health benefits. I'm going to make it something fun. Before everybody got caught up in making money and being wealthy, people used to mean more to each other than dollars and cents. They would do things rather than work or shop.
I wanted to write a blog about this because everytime I hear on tv or radio about somebody who lost or quit their job and had the opportunity to do what they wanted to do. All of those stories had happy endings.
They spun it to the rest of the office by telling everybody that I wanted to leave so they decided to let me go home early. I didn't realize until I got home that HR's letter had magically superceded my resignation letter and transformed it into a termination letter! Hey bitch, you didn't dump me, I dumped you! You can't preemptively dump me, I already dumped you. You're living in a delusion.
I've tried reminding myself why I quit in the first place, and of all the benefits I have to gain from escaping the clutches of corporate socialism. I repeat it constantly. It's OCD though. No matter how many times those crazy fuckers count locks or wash their hands, they still don't feel clean or safe.
Tomorrow, I am getting my blood. My last fillup until I find another job that provides health benefits. I'm going to make it something fun. Before everybody got caught up in making money and being wealthy, people used to mean more to each other than dollars and cents. They would do things rather than work or shop.
I wanted to write a blog about this because everytime I hear on tv or radio about somebody who lost or quit their job and had the opportunity to do what they wanted to do. All of those stories had happy endings.
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