Isn’t it amazing how writing can be (mis)construed?
I could say: “I love my niece and nephew.”
And you drooling morons would translate it to: “lyk OMG
If you are ever mentioned in my writing (in a negative light
or otherwise), I will never include your last name. In fact, I may even go so
far as to change your fucking name altogether. I respect privacy, to an extent
anyway. But the shit I’m hearing is fucking ludicrous. If you see your name on
some occasion, bask in the publicity, show off to all your friends, whatever
the fuck you do, but stop freaking out over complete fucking nonsense. Esoteric
to most, but you know who you are.
I have pressing matters to address. Let us make haste.
- I took
the HIPAA Security Basics Training Program in the pharmacy today. Load of
shit. Don’t steal money. Don’t give your password to your coworkers. Don’t
install viruses. Such tasty morsels of information seem almost as obvious
as “Don’t drink Drano” and “Don’t swallow your spit while taking a
I thought this was funny. Apparently, 80% of workers in a certain Dallas
company had a password that was a derivative of the word “cowboys.” Fucking
- I am
told that I am to write a persuasive essay tomorrow, one that will
determine my eligibility towards entering English Comp 1 + 2. Frankly, I’m
confident in my writing and excited about a class where I can just write.
Literary nirvana, I would think. I demolished Dwayne during the HSPAs,
what could be so much harder about this one?
- I am
slowly crawling out of my H.I.M. stint. Replacing them is Hoobastank.
- New South
Park in a half hour. I am
Daniel presses me to describe my “perfect lover.” To be blunt, one who has
a brain in her skull. I like something to grab onto, too. Want a third one? Fine. Emo=bad.
Thus end my pressing matters. Bye now.