All Of My Days Have Been Misspent
I mean really....
Who does? Noone really. There are those people out there who are all, "If I was a millionaire, I would still work." Yeah fucking right. Go sit down with the other liars, you liar.
If I was a millionaire, I wouldn't work ever again. No fucking way.
I just don't know if it is worth it. It really cuts into all of my other wordly pursuits. It really cramps my style. It doesn't allow me my required 12 hours of sleep. A job really prevents me from watching Judging Amy at 11 and 4. (I need some daily Tyne Daly or I just ain't right.....) I have to wear a matching uniform like all the other Oompa Loompas. I hate matching uniforms more than I hate James Bond movies. And that is alot in case you didn't already know. For some reason or another, I consider Peirce Bronsan to be the bane of my existence.
The company picnic for my husband's company is tomorrow. I can hardly wait. It will be so much fun. I will get there early to help set up because I am such a helpul person who likes to help people. We are going to bring our cooler because they don't have enough. We also have to stop to get some ice for the coolers.
Wasn't that just the worst paragraph I have ever written in my entire life?
If you answered yes, then you won the lifetime supply of chocolate. And my factory....because Charlie...I am giving it to you. You and your family...now get in the fucking elevator and we are taking you for a fucking haircut.
If you answered no, then fuck you. A plague on your house. And if your friend that you read it to and you were all, "Hey you have to read this shitty paragraph in this one blog I read..." and then she was all, "Hey that paragraph was a total peice of crap." Well a plague on her house too.
I was lying in bed today and I was thinking about stuff. Nothing important, really. Just thinking about how there were some boxes of cereal in the pantry that were really old and I should throw them away. Then I thought about how I really could use some Fruity Pebbles which reminded me of the old commercials for Fruity Pebbles with Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble. It was so funny cause Barney was always trying to steal Fred's pebbles and.....wait a second I have to compose myself cause I am laughing too hard....and most of the time Barney stole the pebbles and then Fred would say, "BAAAAARRRRNNNEEEYYY!! My PEBBBLES!" Then I was thinking about how I didn't really want to get out of bed. I thought maybe I was never going to get out of bed. But I didn't want be all like the grandparents in Willy Wonka. I never understood that. Where did they go to the bathroom? What was wrong with them? Did they bathe? When they did all move into the chocolate factory would they still all sleep in one bed? Like did they like that or was it just for convience? And I have to say that if my husband died there is no way I would let his lazy ass disabled elderly parents still live in my house. I also highly doubt that my parents would want to share a bed with them either. Then I was thinking about how I have to share my bed and I don't think I want to anymore. Who said that married couples need to share beds? Who invented that? I want to go back to Lucy and Ricky Ricardo times when you had separate beds. I think that was far more practical. Especially because I spend every evening sleeping with Thrashy Thrasherson who cannot seem to sleep without "swooshing" his feet back and forth for the better part of eternity prior to falling asleep. It would also save me from the constant complaints about his self obsession with his own smell and how his blanket lacks his own personal smell but instead smells like, "PUG". Then I smelled my blanket and it did indeed smell like PUgZ. (Like how I went all gangstah with the spelling? Yeah..I thought you did.) Anyways, I like the smell of pug. It has a certain aroma much like that of Fritos, dog food and love. Why anyone would want their blanket to smell like laundry detergent, XBOX and special effects instead of pug is beyond me....
