“Hey you, the world is waiting. It’s waiting for YOU! YOU MUTHAFUCKA!!!! GET UP! GET UP! GET UP!! You were in bed by 10 and you didn’t get laid, so you’re not tired. Get UP!!! I don’t give a squireel’s fart that it’s five am and you don’t have to be up til 6:30. What did I s…Oh no you didn’t. Guess what? Now you have to pee. Not regular pee either. Horse pee. Yeah. That’s right. You’re my bitch.”
My subconscious and internal clock hate me. I know what time I have to wake up, but my body refuses to let me sleep until that time. Now, I know that is supposed to mean that I’m well rested and whatnot, but I still feel like a crumb bum. I DESPISE having to punch a clock. I hate that shit more than i hate the Nazis, and I friggin HATE the Nazis.
I keep seeing my future, and the more I see, the more I am certain that I will not be a legal secretary for the rest of my life. I think my subconscious is punishing me for not exectuting this in a moer expedient manner. I’m a pretty fearless dame for the most part. I’m the type of chick who, if the situation called for it (and we were say, in the wildernees or something), would break out “Brain Surgery for Dummies,” handle her business, and do that shit like a champ! Therefore, the fact that I haven’t really plunged headlong into something that is not only my passion, but something I’m pretty good at, is beyond me. I guess it’s time that I…
(wait for it)
…am waiting to be kicked in the balls. (Thought I was gonna forget about balls today, huh?)
PS Is it too much to ask that you jump around and scream like Pee Wee’s Playhouse every time I reference balls?
PPS If you think that you are too highbrow to engage in that sort of activity, you’re probably in the wrong place?