God Hates God

There are some evident truths in this world. First, only people with questionable criminal / chromosomal status drink in pubs with flat roofs. Second, 1000 monkeys, if given 1000 typewriters, will be too distracted by their own willies to type. Lastly, that if my dog goes on wanderabout in the middle of the night, it is because he has to shit. No amount of shouting at him will make that doghole turtlehead dissipate.

And thus I barely slept last night. Instead of putting the poor sod outside, I just kept calling him a cunt from the comfort of my duvet. To be fair to the little shit, though, he did keep his poopies inside his bottom for as long as he could. Nonetheless, I am so tired that it could very well lead to my own messy death. Death by Tired. I hear it involves having your eyes melt. It has happened before, my friends, and it will soon be my fate.

Being tired makes me irritable. Funny that, as if I spent the wide-awake periods of my life in a state of joyous idiot-faced stupor. The issue is, though, that sleep deprivation causes such a complete mental misfire that I forget what really fucks me off. Earlier today, I looked up from my work to bitch about something, and much to my absolute dismay, only the words, “Guh, uh, urrrrrrgh, cookies,” dribbled out of my sleepy maw! It has reached the point in the day where I am entirely incapable of normal human functioning and have thus decided to make a lump of blu-tac as squishy as possible. It ain’t differential equations, but it is all my spongy head can muster at the moment.

Mom. Dad. I love you. I’ll miss you both when this horrible haggard disease finally overcomes me, like The Blob to a then-unknown teenage Steve McQueen. Until then, remember my legacy like uhhhhhhh, hmmmmmm, like how, uhhhhhh. Fuck, I can’t remember.

This entry was posted on Thursday, May 3rd, 2007 at 10:25 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.