Stretch Your Fractured Pretzel Spine

hey hey hey, people. Sorry I haven't been around. Internet in my room is suckish and it pisses me off.

an ode to my co-workers:

You are the reason that I cried myself to sleep.
Those little words you said were enough to make me weep.
I showed you my stories, my secrets, my ways,
and you go and throw it all right back in my face.
I don't know what I've done to deserve such horrid things
but I know you'll be stuck on the ground while I fly on paper wings.
So, screw you.

THIS poem is for Ninja Paul, Slick, Sam. R. I., and Pirate Paul, the guy I just met.

Please . . don't let me work on Saturdays . . . EVER again. It sucks ass - worse than any Friday I've ever seen. I felt like slitting my wrists before the night was over. But I held it in, kept a smile on my face, and acted nice. Until THEY decided to mess with me and Steve.

Guys, that was crossing a line. No, not crossing it - you CROSSED it, SET IT on FIRE, PISSED on it, then DANCED on the SOGGY ASHES. I may not act like it, but inside I'm an easy-to-hurt person, and you really did something to me Saturday.

Anywho, I bought three CD's off of Amazon, so they can arrive in the mail this week. I got Berth, In Love And Death, and Lies For The Liars. I know I already downloaded most of the songs from the last one, but I like having hard copies, and I'm VERY impatient.





Hopefully, Mom won't open my mail - she might flip over the covers. Seriously, she saw the cover to The Black Parade:

and she freaked. So I can't ever really share music with her . . . ever. Oh, and I bought a Korn CD. THAT one, my mom nearly yelled at me at the store.



But she got over it.

So I;m an official CD hoarder. I couldn't fit all the CD's on my CD rack/thang I have on my bed, so I stuck 'em on a spare shelf above my bed. I even stuck my copy of Repo! up there.

Well, I gots to go - stories to write, people to piss off, and maybe some food to scrounge.

~Jink