Went down to the temphole last yesterday to get my skillz appraised on the Microsoft office suite - kept putting spaces in my Excel formulas and making the com-pu-tah burp up angry beeps and the other idiots in there looking at me funny - I'm doing the advanced maths and multiple file references and they're still wrapping their doo-ragged minds around CTRL-C, Jesus fuck I'm overqualified to go back to this endless circlejerk of profit and loss where nobody comes, it's just arouse with the opening of the market and flaccid by closing and you're wrapping your dick in somebody else's money. I could neve rcare too hard about all that nonsense. Jesus Christ, so today I'm sitting on my ass listening to Dr. Octagon and drinking the leftover vodka, nothing left to mix it with but water, it's not even time for Pokemon and I'm trashed off of my ass, waiting to get a call from the temphole, begging for any kind of work, God the humiliation, I was on my way - I was making something of myself - I got my picture on stileproject for God's sake, I should be getting some kind of Internet superstar grant by now. What the fuck? Do I need to piss on my mousewheel or stick a yam up my ass or what to get a little governmental intervention here? Do I need to call that motherfucker with all the question marks all over his suit and get his thick-ass rectal package of a book to get some support? I vote, sometimes I even think about it and shit - shouldn't I be getting a little something back? Did I mention that the vodka is sitting on nothing in my stomach but a handful of peanuts that I stole from my girlfriend? See, what I do is I empty the jar, fill the bottom with pebbles and then, with Indiana Jones-like skill, take EXACTLY THE SAME VOLUME of peanuts as pebbles so it's something closely akin to the perfect crime and it can also lower my cholesterol. I wonder if the guy who invented fire got downsized, and what he did next? Maybe he fucked up a cave wall. Maybe he became Executive Assistant to the Director of Corporate Communications at some kind of caveman investment bank. Maybe he died.