Skipping to Braindeath

Ugh. I just ate an apple that I had forgotten in my bag for quite some time and it sure tasted like ass.

I hate doing front-desk work because it is soul-crushingly boring. I just sit there and play a solid hour or so of Murderer or Molester whenever someone walks through the door. Simple game, really. Some yob comes in from the street and I try to figure if this person is either a murderer or molester. Or, worse yet. Both. It is a fucked up game, I know. But it sure beats the shit out listening to easy-listening radio. And we all know that easy-listening radio is never an easy listen. Fuck no.

I am happy to report that my house is a spectacular crack-den. Also, I have to do grocery shopping. Grocery shopping. A sign of civility when the task is actually done. Really. When all the good stuff is gone, you’re essentially reduced to foraging for food around the house like an animal. Sniffing and munching (and quite possibly yakking cos you don’t know how long that thing’s been sitting there) whatever you happen upon. It’s a slippery slope and soon enough, you’re pretty much snacking on stale cracker and mustard sandwiches for the next couple of days. Shit’s gross, but who are you to argue?