I’ve been trying for the past hour to pay my energy bill online. Hey Nevada Energy, c’mon guys. Fix your website.
I started working on Natalia.
Two-thousand dollars? For that?
All I can say is, you guys better be adorable eight year olds with parents battling cancer. Because if you’re adults making ridiculous kindergarten crafts and asking two-thousand dollars for it, you can just fuck all the way off.
Company employee burnout is reportedly costing America over three hundred million dollars.
Want to know why?
On the west coast, burnout comes from having to deal with an excessive amount of homeless people and the mentally ill, plus general public stupidity and sloth, lack of safety in the work place (Osha!), and more often than not laziness and incompetence are rewarded while hard workers are required to pick up the slack. Burnout! Take this job and shove it.
If Americans cared as much about homeless people as they do about their sides of ranch and mayonnaise, maybe we could find a solution to get these people off the streets. But no, your ranch dressing is more important.
You can make fun of Filipinos who live in a two bedroom apartment with three generations of family, but none of them are homeless. None of them are a general nuisance to society. Unlike white people who just want their family members to get out, fuck off and die.
Democrats care more about global warming than homeless people. “Save the icebergs! Fuck you human beings wasting away on the streets! Save the icebergs!” Was homelessness brought up once during the Democratic debates? I bet icebergs were.
Americans are greedy and selfish. They want instant fortune and fame through Twitter and Instagram, just for being alive and naked. God forbid they should keep their clothes on, and work, labor, EARN, get their hands dirty and sweat. There’s not a talented actor, director, musician, artist, writer, or photographer, who didn’t move furniture, bartend, wait tables, and/or grind away working construction. Every American should have to work mandatory one year as a server.
My stalkers are pretty much on my dick 24/7 but today they outdid themselves. I went to Walmart to pick up shoe insoles, and because it’s a been a long time, maybe a year, I
also picked up some candy. M&M’s. When I got home I threw the M&M’s in my fridge unopened. And naturally an hour later there was a single blue M&M outside my door.
STALKERS.
Aramis calls them my fans, like the guys who ❤️ every picture I post on Instagram.
Fans
Its just sad/pathetic that people get so lonely and obsessed they can’t leave you alone. I can’t think of anyone I’m interested in enough to follow them around and then anonymously let that person know I was following them around. I have never been so lonely and useless to stalk people. Plus there has never been anyone I find that interesting.
And don’t get me started about the guys I never went on a second or first date with. Whoooo. Them be a whole other breed of nutjob.
Men who stalk women and then wonder why they’re so lonely and unhappy, need to hire companionship. Not hookers. Well, maybe hookers, but more so companionship. You can hire women companions. It’s a real thing. Emotional support companions. You can hire women just to sit and talk with you for two hours. They have a respectable title. They’re very expensive. Way more expensive than a $200 quickie hooker handjob. These women are like $700-$1,000 an hour. At least they’re paying attention to you. Hookers don’t even pay attention to you.
I couldn’t sit and talk to some slob for an hour. Not even for $1,000. In and out, baby! Ten minutes tops! Eww. Not even that. I remember when men who looked for girls were attractive. Dressed well. Sophisticated. Rich. They just hated their wives. Now they’re disgusting slobs. What happened, guys? You don’t own any mirrors? Male escorts should be making a killing now. What wife in her right mind wants the company of these disgusting slobs? Let alone having to endure these slobs huffing and puffing on top of them. YUCK.
Some junkie knocked on my downstairs neighbor’s door and asked if he could drink from the water bowl I leave out for Miso. My neighbor said he didn’t care. The junkie actually thanked my neighbor and drank a little water from Miso’s bowl. I’m not sure how I feel about this. I brought the bowl upstairs afterwards, thoroughly washed it out by hand with very hot water and Dawn dish soap, and refilled the bowl with fresh clean water. It’s back outside on the stoop.
I’m not sure how I feel about this. I mean drink the water if you need to, right? But then again I’m hyper protective of that kitty cat. I would commit justifiable homicide with my bare hands for that kitty. That’s the kitty’s water bowl, motherfucker! See what I mean? Cats are smart. They won’t touch anything that’s been sullied. Me neither. Filthy pigs! Still, I could kneel on a man’s (or woman’s) chest and strangle him (or her) to death with my bare hands for that cat. I firmly believe my path brought me here, to this apartment, to this barren wasteland of a city, to find and care for this cat.
Cats are gods. I hear you lord and master. Kitty treats. Chicken not salmon. Both soft chew, and crunchy. Got it.
No comments:
Post a Comment