Hope you’re doing well and that business is booming.
May I ask you something?
Why is LL Cool J on my tv screen? AGAIN? We have been through this. Please fire somebody immediately.
<3,
Ang
Well, firsties, I’m so happy to be typing and breathing in and out! I canNOT believe I walked away from that shit in one halfassitudinous piece. Had to get stitches up in my knee shit.
BEFORE:
AFTER:
I am the sort of moron who is just happy that they had pink bandages. And small pic of the car cause I can’t bear the image:
Anyway, they had to give me an ultrasound to check for liver damage because blah blah blah, and while the technician was rubbin’ the thing up on my belly and looking inside of me, I was like, “Can you see the baby?” And his face was like, 
*oh noes!* I gave him about 5 seconds of terror, then said, JK. Fucker was a fast one and then asked me, “What if I had said yes?” ”Then I must be the next Virgin Mary.” (I’m a virgin you guys, duh.)
*Thanks for the “cheer up” socks you gave, Robert! You have awesome taste in socks! :) 
I wore the “cheer up” workout outfit today at the clinic, too! Comfy!
hi do you think I need to clean this? Last year:
As of this morning:
(Yes, that’s a pink wig. Don’t even worry about it.)
Update — one for depth measure:
It looks like shit. How many loads of laundry do you think that is? I’m actually going to clean it, so whoever guesses the closest gets something from me in the mail (liquid, gas or mineral).
Filed under: Jesus Christ, eating food, gross, mental, what a dick, working
Some fuckin’ people, am I right?
Anyway, GROSS ALERT I went to the doctor because apparently I have a stye. So I asked him if it was an eye tumor, because at virtually every doctor visit I inquire about something that I think is probably a tumor. He is of Indian descent, and a very good doctor, but when I asked if he was sure it was not a tumor, he was like “LOL, It’s nott a tuh-moh!” a la Arnold. Then I was like HAHHAAHA cause that one never gets old for me, and he was like 
.
Anyway twat sprinkles, what kind of plants/animals/children did you guyz have for breakfast/lunch? I had a sandwich and a xanax, because Monday Meetings can suck my dick.
Filed under: Jesus Christ, Pro-tips, old people, scotch, what a dick, working
Fuck most of them. Fuck them right in the face. Don’t even worry about it.
JK’s! What a shit day I’ve had, and now I’m just full of BEANS. For starters, I almost leapt across a desk today to non-lovingly smack someone in the face. Then I actually said this:
“If I am made to do that, I will end up walking out. Again.”
Great job, Self-from-Earlier-Today! “How to Win Friends and Influence People”, yeah, I wrote that book.
Oh well. At least I didn’t fart.
-Electronic mail from my BOSSZ:
-Adding an old high school friend on Facebook, then clicking on their “INFO” tab:
Sarah Palin? Really, dude?
And I’m working SO HARD on my new endeavor over here: http://fuglyshoes.tumblr.com, please go see. xx
***UPDATE: So I’m a big asshole for doing this, but look what arrived in my electronic mailboxz today. You see? I WAS NOT KIDDING***
Look, I know these “Ice Cream Socials” are like one of the top ten annoyances according to the children of Darfur, but allow me to be shitty and comprain about having to attend these fucking things.
You can’t really say, “No. No, I don’t really want to eat a bowl of ice cream in the middle of the fucking day with you guys. And honestly, I don’t understand why you would want to either, unless you have a badass metabolism or you’re 5.”
Know why you can’t say that? Because it seems uppity and rude, and unless you’re morbidly obese, no one will understand why you won’t just eat a fucking bowl of ice cream in the middle of the day. If it were like a once-a-year thing, fine, whatever, but it’s not. Plus the name is pretty up there with the cheesiness. ”Ice Cream Social, you guyz!!! Toot toot, All Aboard!” The expression on my face in reaction to that was a blank stare with lots of blinking (in the best case and I am guessing.)
But don’t worry, I’m not on suicide (homicide) watch yet.
*****BORING DETAILS ALERT*****
I used to work on biological networks, but I’m not a biologist, so I wanted to stab my eyes out every day. I’ve always wanted to work on poverty problems, but as I’ve noted before, that’s a pretty crazy thing to try and write a Computer Science dissertation on.
I pointed all of this out during fart meeting, and mister silver-tongued gypsy man was all, “Boo-yah! I’ll let you work on social networks and you can fix poverty like that. And terrorism.”
Btw, by social networks I mean this kind:
and not this kind:
Then he shoved a research paper in my face about “Social Network Capital, Economic Mobility and Poverty Traps” in developing countries, and I figured he won again so I pretty much got up and left. Cause that sounds pretty cool, right guys? Guys?
You may now begin placing bets amongst yourselves about when this post will make the rounds again. By my watch, should be about same time next year. I guess no one’s gonna pay me to pet kittens and puppies all day, so I may as well try this.
BONUS MATERIAL — and SPEAKING of social networks — and breastfeeding — Nakkins is one of the Greater Digital Artists of our time!
Filed under: Jesus Christ, The Lord, don't, mental, oh fuck, scotch, teaching, what a dick, working
Dudes. You know how I like to drop out of the PhD program every year? WELL, I QUIT AGAIN TODAY (via an epic-ass email sent at 3pm.)
My boss’s response: ”I understand your frustration and anxiety. I used to feel that way, too. Let’s meet tomorrow and I’ll give you some tips/lessons I’ve learned on how to deal with stress.”
Jigga WHAAAAt??
He clearly is in denial or only read 1/8th of my email. I picture him looking at it with one eye closed, pointer fingers in his ears, and screaming “LA LA LA LA LA! I CAN’T HEEEAR YOOOOU!!!” Did I mention that the email was epic, and listed all of the reasons why I want to quit, as in QUIT, the program?
@L$H%@$#gw^. So now I get to have “Awkward Conversation of the Year” at 4:30pm tomorrow. At least my Friday presentation for work is now canceled (high-five, guys!)
Wish me luck. I have no idea if I’ll get snake-charmed into staying in the program that makes me hate my life and all living things. LE FUCKING SIGH.
My friend’s friend has taken us all to school. BURGER-ORDERING SCHOOL. Or FATGIRL SCHOOL.
Bravo. That is nasty.
Score is calculated as follows (begin with +10 for the holidays):
- Intoxication level of the speaker: x 3
- Mention of a medical condition: +1
- Unnecessary specificity: x 6
- Playing hand-squeezy w/new prayer-neighbor during moments of hilarity: -10
- Eyes remain closed: +5
- Eyes do not roll back up into head: +20
