Friday, December 19, 2003

I'm not a Temp, not Yet a Full-Time

I arrived at work to receive the second of my holiday gift certificates to a here-unspecified superchain strip-mall store. At this point, though, I can honestly say that I've almost received as much holiday cheer from these fools as from my boss (whom I loved) at a real job I used to have in a major foreign-owned American company in a really really big city. Considering that this boss (whom I loved, and whose nickname was Boss for I told her that she could never be replaced) earned a five-digit bonus on top of her salary, it seems distressing to me now, in comparison, to realize what a fucking cheapskate she was (especially since I had two bosses and they went in together on my holiday present).

Am I the only one who finds it kind of disturbing that Tim Burton and Helena-Bonham Carter are having a baby together? She is the closest living approximate to Edward Scissorhands. She's more like Edward Scissorhands than Johnny Depp is. To understand my disgust, it's kind of like if Picasso slept with a woman whose three-dimensionality had been rendered into two dimensions, or if some weed-smoking drop-out from Heavy Metal magazine somehow found a woman who wanted to sleep with him, but more than that, she had gigantic size ZZZ ta-tas and wore metal armor.

By the way, and this may be my last comment about The Simple Life for awhile because I know I talk about it too much, but seriously, could someone just cave their heads in with the business end of an axe, or a Ferrari, and have it done with. They are using up valuable oxygen that could be going to some other living creature, like a blade of grass or the scientists who are working to get Christopher Reeve out of the wheelchair so that he no longer scares children (you better wrap it up with that paralysis, B).

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