On my damn nerves

Hey ya'll. So, a couple of posts ago, I shared the fact that I'm going to work two jobs very soon. Well, if the clowns in control keep pushing my buttons, one of those jobs will be replaced. My longstanding gig is run by a few morons who think they can talk to people like they ain't got no damn brain. Yesterday, I got into it with the laziest person I've ever met. Apparently, a diet high in Krispy Kreme doughnuts makes you lose your senses, because this tub o'shit started talking to me like I was his sorry bitch. So what did I do? C'mon, ya'll, you know your boy had to check that ass. Why is it that some of the sorriest sombitches get ahead while the hard working, weight-of-the-world-carrying folks get jacked? In the case of the clown I'm talking about, I know he got them knees dirty to get where he is. Yep, he can't move if it ain't beer or doughnuts, but Humpty can sure suck-up with the best of 'em. I'll probably get a write-up for lettin' loose on that clown, but damnit I got my moneys worth. That's allright 'cause there's only so far you can go being a low-level scavenger. The real crime is that pet rock actually got Labor Day off! I keep it all in perspective, though. Many more people have it much worse than I. Besides, I take comfort in knowing that my future is unlimited and his is unchanging and without honor. I also know that his racist ass already has a ticket on the Helltanic and all the money he supposedly makes in this life won't save him in the next. He'll be sitting right next to Dubya and Condosellout. Hi-Lo.