Yeah, it’s been a long weekend. It’s been a long year–with strange affects/effects. Thankfully the year is almost over. From what I hear, to start the new year, they are putting up a sign above the doorway to the eighth floor motion part. Hopefully it isn’t like the poster they just put in. It really doesn’t matter, I guess. Every day, I get up, have my morning coffee, and head to the train with the same sick feeling in my stomach. No-fault will do that to you. Sad that I actually like the work. I don’t get it either.
*Awkward lack of transition*
“Don’t put that in the blog.” If you remember saying that to me, then keep reading. If you are someone that I work with or for, even if this applies to you, it doesn’t. There is a general exception for you. I hope that, come summertime, while you are waiting on the subway platform, and the train comes, with each car more crowded than the next, you find the empty one. You run in, so happy to find that sweet oasis. But once you get it, it’s not empty and it has a peculiar smell. One that doesn’t quite hit you until the door is closed and the train is moving. Then the train stalls. And then you realize why it smells; you see it. It comes to you, piss dripping down its leg, and sits down next to you. I hope that is how you start your day.
It’s not that I hate “Don’t put that in the blog” because I really want to put whatever nonsense comes out of your spout on the blog, but can’t because you asked me not to. It’s just that 99% of the time, whatever you said or did, whatever you think I was going to post, was stupid. Genuinely stupid.
Lucky for you, I’ve cornered the market on stupid blog posts. I don’t need your help.
