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Thursday, June 14, 2007

I've had a tough day, due to lack of drugs.




Murder death kill.

My back is somewhat better, so I stopped taking the Flexeril my doctor prescribed.

And now I want to set people on fire and punch buildings.

I know what I typed. I want to punch buildings right in their smug little cornicing.


A guy cut me off in traffic. So I pulled into the oncoming lane, cut him off, boxed him in, and parked my truck so I could yell at him. Unfortunately, he got away, and I don;t have a gun. Instead, I summoned all my psychic energy and focused all my hate on him, trying to hate him to death.

I don't actually have any psychic powers but tried it just in case any latent psychic abilities chose that moment to manifest themselves.

The guy's head did not explode but I think his car's blue book value depreciated a teeny tiny fraction of a penny, and I'm going to have to settle for that.

Then I went to a pizza store to move a perfectly good camera, just because they decided to move the cash register.

I had my MP3 jammed into my ears, listening to Eitan Katz, in a desperate bid to lower my blood pressure, and also so no idiots could talk to me.

An idiot came up to me, and started talking.

I glowered at him, but he seemed unperturbed, so after about five minutes I took the headphones off and snarled "what?"

"What kind of calzones do you have?"

"I don't work here." I said. I have a drill in my hand and I'm wearing my company's uniform shirt with the name and logo on it, not the pizza store logo. Also, I wasn't wearing an apron.

"But I just want to know what kind of calzones you have!"

I did not leap over the counter and throttle the man in order to keep him from reproducing, but it was a near thing.

Then three more people did it to me- asked me a pizza related question and then argued with me when I explained that I did not work for the pizza store.

I need a drink.