01/29/2008
"bees"

I left work early on Wednesday because I wanted to go to the Walk-In Clinic, you know, the doctor office when you're too poor to have a doctor. Honestly, I don't know how those educated people deal with the "patients" that walk in there. I wonder how many people walk in there and say "I'm dying" or "my balls itch", the latter being far worse, obviously. I can only imagine. I'd say at least 15% and frankly that's way too many.

Not to mention that those Walk-In clinics are also a fucking kid factory. WHAT THE FUCK. There's no way all those kids running around in there belong to all those adults in there. The adult to kid ratio is like 3:10. I think the clinic steals children from parents to let them roam free during the day to deter people from walking in. Plus, they only feed them pure sugar cane. They just give it to them to gnaw on for a few hours before they open. Then to spice things up, they fill the air ducts with cocaine, so when the air conditioning turns on, those little nostrils suck it all up. That's why snot's always flowing like water.

plus, everybody in there smells like cheese. Good cheese, which you know always smells the worst.

Well, I left work at 2 and I had to go home to do a little intarnetz search to see where the closest one would be. Well, I couldn't find one. I searched "walk-in clinic, orlando" "orlando walk-in clinic" and I found things about Walk-In Clincs and I found stuff about Orlando. Well, I eventually found one and it was near the airport area. By this time, it 3ish. They close at 5. I would never make it down there in time since Orlando's rush begins at 5am and stops at 11pm. I gave up and sat in the tub and played Portal. At the same time? Fuck you for asking you pervert.

Skipped out on work for nothing.

01/29/2008
"metallica"


SO. Yeah. Bring on the masturbation jokes, I've already heard like 40 of them, thank you; but here is a story and that, my friends, was a "precursor":

Ok.
At work, we have a little shelf of "employee recommends" out on the floor. On the front each of our little plastic shelfy things that displays the game that's currently in it has an Atari cartridge affixed to the front of it with a picture of that employee in place of the actual game picture and a clever little pun on the original game's name underneath, mine--naturally being OVERLORD (you can find this nifty little doodad here: labelmaker2600.com, it's fun, but there is a lesson to be learned here, so read on.)

Are you still with me? Good.

Up until this point, nobody has bothered them, even though we predicted that they would all get stolen on the day that we made them. After about 3 months of nobody having bothered them, we figured, "Cool, I guess they're safe or whatever and nobody really cares." NEAT.

Until somebody stole two (of 6, collect them all, douchebags!) of them the other day. Mine and Z's (who, incidentally, has a hilarious story about pwnage and barfing which may or may not end up in the comic at some point, ask him about it sometime if you're into ruining surprises.)

So i discover this fact, have a freak out and get over the store's loud speaker and verbally abuse them publicly hoping they are still in the store and remind them of where thieves go when they die so everybody in the store can hear. i am incensed. I am red in the face. Somebody has come into MY territory, defaced my displays and stolen my property. This does not sit well with me as I hate everybody as it is, so like the the cherry on a delicious cupcake.

After a while, I am starting to get over my rage when, while going through the software box shelves on the floor on a routine straightening up, I discover the missing cartridges crammed behind them, i pull them out in a fit of rage and slam them down onto the counter and scream, "look what i found!" (<---scene completely false for dramatization purposes) only to realize that my whole picture had been peeled off of the cartridge and taken, but that Z's hadn't.

At this point, I am inconsolable. I am filled with SO MUCH rage I couldn't even utter a whole fucking sentence. I am fuming.
Who does this shit?
And more importantly, WHY.
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WHY.

FUCK YOU.

Anyways, yeah. If you did this, I will kill and eat your babies. Alive! And if you didn't, then kudos to you for being a decent human being with better things to do.

I am a horrible storyteller. This is why I draw and Jon writes.