Pissing In Cheerios

I have come to the realization that when popcorn smells like butt, it’s time to break dance. True story.

Also, never call a goth chick an Emu. For some reason, they don’t like being likened to an ostrich-like bird. Weird huh? I mean who doesn’t like being called a big fucking bird? I know I do.

Also, I just wanted everyone that reads to know that I suffer from a very rare, terminal disease: I-eat-cough-drops-like-they’re-candy-itis. Very contagious. I got it from this prostitute who was giving me a rim job. Now my rims are all clean, but my bumper is dirty. And my fender needs a wax. Hoody hoo.

Last night, I dreamt I was a grocery clerk cowgirl saving the world from giant dirty snowballs. Only, I got a concussion from a beached whale and ended up married to the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air in a Lincoln Log house.

I will never eat pussy before I go to bed again. And by pussy I mean Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk Ice Cream.

Deeba deeba deeba dat’s all folks!

Where have I been this past month you ask?

On hiatus, attempting to find employment that will feed my children and still support my Jager and Altoids habit.

The job market is brutal. But if I’ve learned anything these past few weeks, it’s that eventually you find a female boss hard up enough for sex that she will let you rub her hooha to gain a few bucks more an hour. Of course, now I’m stuck shaving her during my lunch break. FYI - Pubes and Oodles of Noodles do not mix.

Let me just say I love taking questionnaires during job interviews. Please, give me more questions!

Here’s a sample of some questions I had to answer this past month and what my replies were.

1. You have an altercation with a client or customer. They are wrong but our company has a lot of money invested with them. What do you do to resolve the matter? [This is too easy]

Send over a box of chocolates and flowers to their office, apologizing… and conveniently forget to add that they are laxatives, not chocolates.

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