Just the Girl

The fairer of the sexes. The muse. The inspiration to countless odes and rhymes. This is the phenomenon called the woman.

She is mysterious. She is vengeful. She is dangerous. But hot damn, men can live without her.

Life, I figure, is a series of treasure hunts. Think of it as an expanded version of the Amazing Race. You go to different places, see different things, meet different people. Then you hit a roadblock. You have to perform some stupid task just to be able to move on. A stupid task like treating a group of materialistic friends to drinks and dinner at some overpriced restaurant. You know that the friends will look at you from head to toe, criticize everything about you, from how your pants fit you, or how ratty your wallet is. Never mind that YOU are paying for said dinner.

Ok. You perform the task and move on. You sprint to the finish line, hoping this race will be the last when you will get the prize. However, in the end, the hosts tells you, that you will be racing again the next day, where you will perform another stupid task. You ask yourself the question, "Is all this effort worth it?"

Yes it is. For now.

Say Goodbye

For the past couple of weeks, my time has been spent wondering what will become of my life and my career. It seems as if I'm stuck in an episode of the Twilight Zone. The is supposedly a list. A list of people that will be sacked. But a funny thing, everyone knows this list exists, has an idea of its contents, but has no idea when or where it will rear its ugly head. Think of it has the corporate Loch Ness monster.

Meanwhile, underpaid minions and plankton like me sit around waiting for the bomb to drop while overpaid nincompoop suck each other's balls. It's gotten so bad that saying goodbyes and "nice working with you" has become a running joke.


Goodbye. Nice working with you. NOT.

You are the grammar Fuhrer. All bow to your
authority. You will crush all the inferior
people under the soles of your jackboots, and
any who question your motives will be
eliminated. Your punishment is being the bane
of every other person's existence, because
you're constantly contradicting stupidity.
Everyone will be gunning for you. Your dreams
of a master race of spellers and grammarians
frighten the masses. You must always watch your
back. If only your power could be used for good
instead of evil.

What is your grammar aptitude?
brought to you by

Not Myself

As I peeled my half-dead carcass out of bed this morning, I thought of bashing my head in with a blunt object. I thought, what a shitty life I lead. I am stuck in a job where I am underpaid, overworked, and unappreciated. What makes this experience bearable is the unending bitching sessions we have about anything and everything. And me and my select group of friends don't give a rat's ass as to what other people think of us. We bitch and don't make any apologies about it.

Some days, the bitching takes to whole new heights. We even bitch about each other. To each other. That's the best thing. I can actually tell them "You're shoes are awful." without any risk of offending the other. It's quite liberating.

To every stupid, know-it-alls out there, fuck off! Trust me, you piss me off!

Why?

Why is it that with every statement you make, there is always a prerequisite follow-up question. Why?

The Sun is the center of the Solar System. "Why?"
I like Pearl Jam better than Nirvana. "Why?"
You look like shit. "Why?"

I'm interested in you. "Why?" Women just live for these kind of situations. Whenever you compliment them or insult them, they ask you why. So now, I try to make sure i know the answer to the question "Why?" before I make any statement, good or bad.

Somehow, I think it doesn't matter what your statement is. What's important is how you phrase your answer to "Why?" I told her that I liked talking to her. She asked why. I said it's because she is different from other people I talk to. She asked why. I said because unlike others, she knows what she wants and that she is motivated to achieve her goals.

Then , she asks why I'm single. I said because I haven't met the right person. She asks why is that. I said I don't get out much and I'm not the type to approach a total stranger. She asks why. I said because I feel sleazy about it. She asks why.

WWWWWHHHHHHYYYYYYYY???????