I have to put down my problems in the jobbiedom to nicotine. This is a condition or a circumstance, or just something affecting. Today, I decided to deal with the poisonous dwarf/ angel by saying as little as possible and going away to another station, leaving her to man/woman her station until I could go home. It would take twenty minutes. I'm at my station and she's at her station. She comes over to my station so I have to converse. I try not to be nasty to the back stabbing bitch basturn currant and autistic brain damaged fungup, and I probably feel easier with this than she does. Even although I don't want this engagement. So I tell her a funny story and then can go home. With no baggage. With no howling banshees telling me that I hate it all and would like to kill them all and such like.
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
Wouldn't it be nice to snuggle down under the duvets in the winter with someone hot, and loving and caring? Well, we were there once, Jack! What would life be like if we'd come to this stage and were unable to access the bliss. It's Krapp's Last Tape. A dead rat! Oh, what company that would be. So, the idiot journalist was interviewing Samuel Beckett in gay Paree and he asked him if he still played the piano, and Sam the Man showed him his arthritic hands and said maybe not.
They cannot take the bliss away from me now, can they, Jack? Maybe they can, Hotboy. Maybe you have to think in a certain kind of way to get into the bliss, and maybe when you are old, you will not be able to think like that.
I do not think this is true. The bliss might be variable. It might not pay your rent. But the bliss is something I have found, or something that has found me. It's mine. I know what it is.
Are you going to crash and burn, Hotboy? I hope so, Jack! Once more into the breach, dear friends!
6 comments:
Well done on the applied distraction with your co-worker. Humor is usually a good way to defuse most situations.
Aye the season is turning, the wind is cold and they days are getting short. I feel like I've been cheated out of summer. Ack well, it pays the same if I am having fun or not.
I think having trained yourself to the bliss you will be able to keep doing it, even if you lose everything else.
Marie! It's a beautiful day here, but I suspect I'll be spending it in my room with the curtain drawn. Meditations are going fabulously well today! If you went abroad to some hot place over the summer, you could share the beach with millions of other people! Just think on that! You can't have everything. Something in me would like a bleak winter on Jura, or someplace like that! Hotboy
Maybe you'll be fortunate like Albert was. His co-worker did the decent thing and went on long term stress leave.
In my will I'll be leaving you enough gold to snuggle down under the duvets for half an hour with someone hot. All you have to do is outlive me. I might have to road test the concept here first.
No way would I go on holiday to a beach with lots of people.
No I can't have everything, so I will be happy with a place with few folks and not so good weather.
Marie! You have quite a big chunk if not quite everything!
Albert? Have you got enough for a will? Who inherits? I'd like to have a word with them! Hotboy p.s. Why am I always surprised that everyone I know among the progeny of the evil bourgeois is loaded?
Hotters. Everyone normal has a will. Otherwise how will they know who you're leaving your liver to?
My old man had one, though he had the good sense and timing to divert all cash to Johnnie Walker before he died.
Post a Comment