I've got this small window of time at work today during which I can write and that is like a gift to the world from my employer and I didn't even know they did charity work because every time they catch me sleeping under my desk they totally wake me up and they're all "You can't sleep on the job! Stop bringing your pillow into work!" and I'm all "Eff you fascist!" and then I drop my pants and bend over and spank my ass at them, like in Braveheart©. And then the evil king Longshanks© attacks and kills off the peasants because he's such an a-hole. I think this post is off to an awesome start! It has battles and evil kings and standing up to the man. It's pretty much a thought revolution all over you and that's way better than semen, if you ask me.
So now I'm sitting around waiting for work and that pretty much makes me a day laborer, except I really don't like the "laborer" part of that title, because it sounds a little slavey to me and like maybe I should be building a pyramid scheme or something. I think I'll substitute "worker" because that has a nice communist ring to it and I can totally picture myself all handsome and windswept standing in front of some red flag with a star on it starting a Worker's Revolution because everyone knows martyrs* are sexy. Look at Che. I don't even know who he is other than that t-shirt guy, but chicks seem to dig him**. I 'd say it was the beard that got him on all those t-shirts but I can't grow a beard other than a fail beard, so that isn't the key to sexy, obviously.
I just bent over to pick up something I dropped from a seated position and I swear to God three ribs popped out to make room for my belly. Maybe it's time to stop eating so much Pop-Tarts©. When you have to change shape like a Transformer© to perform basic body movements, it's time to put the Twix© down. That's in the Bible©. Right after the part about the wolves being kind to the bushes or whatever. Or maybe the part where Jahooba gets swallowed by the whale for 40 days and nights like that Sandra Bullock movie about drinking.
Lunch time! Maybe these new popped out ribs will give me more appetite! Score!
*I just looked up "martyr" and according to the jerks at the online dictionary, you have to die to be a martyr, so I'm totally rethinking my revolution now. Maybe I'll just steal a bunch of Pop-Tarts from the snack area in the break room. Take THAT Capitalist pigs!
**According to facts I just made up, Che's real name was Chico and him and his Father ran a car repair business in the barrio and Che was played by Freddy Prinze Sr. who died of a drug overdose, so he's totally a martyr of poor, disadvantaged drug dealers everywhere. I totally get history, is my point.