Parents? Enjoying la vida calmada in Tulum right now.
Sister? Working.
Me? Cleaning the house from top to bottom AND running my folk's business... like a BOSS!
Cleaning the house is all right. It must be done.
Plus, it clears my head because I start thinking about practical shit like "Why the fuck is Mom storing my 4th grade John S. Park T-shirt in the laundry room? Is she... wearing it? Oh man... elementary school... field days... fuck, those were fun! Man... I REALLY hated the Big Stick Popsicle station... I still do... that MIGHT be the only ice-related goodie that I hate... fuck you, pineapple!"
(seriously, FUCK pineapple. That shit reminds me of piss for some reason. Even a TRACE of it in my food--pineapple, though I'm sure piss will ruin anything as well, but it's not my habit to ingest urine--will ALWAYS ruin whatever I may be eating)
Now the work thing, that DOES suck.
I hate dealing with my mongoloid cousin, no offense to those with Down Syndrome, because they're definitely brighter than this moron.
He does this sort of mistake AT LEAST three times a day:
He did that last year. How do you skip TWO YEARS like that?
I hate him. A LOT.
SO, having to drop by work to check up on this fucking imbecile works me up.
The other day he had set up his motherfucking PS3 to my dad's TV, which is in Dad's office.
I don't know how anyone else would react to that... but that shit made me IRATE.
WHO TAKES THAT KIND OF LIBERTY AT WORK?!
He also continues to take photos of himself holding all the $100 bills FROM MY DAD's safe at work, and posts them on Facebook.
I'm surprised I haven't suffered a heart attack from all that shit.
Talking about all this makes me want to take a baseball bat to his knees. THAT'S how fucking fed up I am with his bullshit antics.
Oh! OH! He also smokes weed ON THE JOB (really, guys... when you're naturally fucking stupid, WHY take something that will only make you slowER and stupidER? REALLY. I don't think I'd resent him so badly if he took speed or any other STIMULANT. Or take Adderall! At least that shit will make you focus, for fuck's sake!)... with his gang of buddies (who go to work and eat whatever the fuck snacks we sell and not pay for SHIT. They're ALL obese... they eat a good 50 bucks worth of snacks... EACH).
It's a truck stop. We have pumps of diesel. We are one of TWO companies that have above-ground tanks in this city.
Yeah. Keep doing that, fuckhead.
AHHH! I have to stop. I'm being one of those people who continuously talk about work problems, and my work isn't interesting like other peoples'. No one wants to hear about diesel, propane, or truckers (unless you're on King of the Hill and your name is Hank). I don't want to hear about diesel, propane, or truckers.
I'm going to chill out. Get mentally prepared to chop my locks tomorrow, FINALLY.
I'm also going to up my carb intake.
I've recently been made aware that all this rage I've currently been experiencing is from a lack of carbs in my life (I've been carb-free since March... it's rough, guys... ROUGH! Though... I was only 100% carb-free form March until May. I do eat two baby tortillas on most days, and I'm eating oats occasionally, so I kind of get my fix some days).
Even Rafa noticed this while he was here, and gave me a new nickname:
Grouchy Old Lady.
And yes, he's on the money with that one.
So, I do apologize for my violent, mean behavior. Luckily, there haven't been any heavy object near my angrily clenched fists... or I haven't managed to bite my tongue as I angrily clench my jaw.
Also, the outcome of the recent Copa America games have been able to mitigate the rage and tame the wild beast inside me.
Ok, this entry has been long enough. Took me damn long enough to write it, too.
Uh-oh... I think I'm getting angry...
Nah, I'm home alone, it's impossible to be pissed off under that circumstance.
Sister? Working.
Me? Cleaning the house from top to bottom AND running my folk's business... like a BOSS!
Cleaning the house is all right. It must be done.
Plus, it clears my head because I start thinking about practical shit like "Why the fuck is Mom storing my 4th grade John S. Park T-shirt in the laundry room? Is she... wearing it? Oh man... elementary school... field days... fuck, those were fun! Man... I REALLY hated the Big Stick Popsicle station... I still do... that MIGHT be the only ice-related goodie that I hate... fuck you, pineapple!"
(seriously, FUCK pineapple. That shit reminds me of piss for some reason. Even a TRACE of it in my food--pineapple, though I'm sure piss will ruin anything as well, but it's not my habit to ingest urine--will ALWAYS ruin whatever I may be eating)
Now the work thing, that DOES suck.
I hate dealing with my mongoloid cousin, no offense to those with Down Syndrome, because they're definitely brighter than this moron.
He does this sort of mistake AT LEAST three times a day:
 |
| 05-03-12? REALLY? REALLY?! |
I hate him. A LOT.
SO, having to drop by work to check up on this fucking imbecile works me up.
The other day he had set up his motherfucking PS3 to my dad's TV, which is in Dad's office.
I don't know how anyone else would react to that... but that shit made me IRATE.
WHO TAKES THAT KIND OF LIBERTY AT WORK?!
He also continues to take photos of himself holding all the $100 bills FROM MY DAD's safe at work, and posts them on Facebook.
I'm surprised I haven't suffered a heart attack from all that shit.
Talking about all this makes me want to take a baseball bat to his knees. THAT'S how fucking fed up I am with his bullshit antics.
Oh! OH! He also smokes weed ON THE JOB (really, guys... when you're naturally fucking stupid, WHY take something that will only make you slowER and stupidER? REALLY. I don't think I'd resent him so badly if he took speed or any other STIMULANT. Or take Adderall! At least that shit will make you focus, for fuck's sake!)... with his gang of buddies (who go to work and eat whatever the fuck snacks we sell and not pay for SHIT. They're ALL obese... they eat a good 50 bucks worth of snacks... EACH).
It's a truck stop. We have pumps of diesel. We are one of TWO companies that have above-ground tanks in this city.
Yeah. Keep doing that, fuckhead.
AHHH! I have to stop. I'm being one of those people who continuously talk about work problems, and my work isn't interesting like other peoples'. No one wants to hear about diesel, propane, or truckers (unless you're on King of the Hill and your name is Hank). I don't want to hear about diesel, propane, or truckers.
I'm going to chill out. Get mentally prepared to chop my locks tomorrow, FINALLY.
I'm also going to up my carb intake.
I've recently been made aware that all this rage I've currently been experiencing is from a lack of carbs in my life (I've been carb-free since March... it's rough, guys... ROUGH! Though... I was only 100% carb-free form March until May. I do eat two baby tortillas on most days, and I'm eating oats occasionally, so I kind of get my fix some days).
Even Rafa noticed this while he was here, and gave me a new nickname:
Grouchy Old Lady.
And yes, he's on the money with that one.
So, I do apologize for my violent, mean behavior. Luckily, there haven't been any heavy object near my angrily clenched fists... or I haven't managed to bite my tongue as I angrily clench my jaw.
Also, the outcome of the recent Copa America games have been able to mitigate the rage and tame the wild beast inside me.
Ok, this entry has been long enough. Took me damn long enough to write it, too.
Uh-oh... I think I'm getting angry...
Nah, I'm home alone, it's impossible to be pissed off under that circumstance.
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