The Airing of Grievances: I'm Surprised That I Even Remembered My Password

I can never remember my grievances when it's time to grieve. Story of my life. I'm just disinterested. In everything. So I'm going to mail this one in, as usual.

I guess I have to grieve against myself, as I've neglected both this blog and my own blog and other blogs and Meat Gayzer comic strips and just about everything that took some effort because I just could not find the will to do it. I have ideas for blog posts, but they would require me to do work. And fuck work. Work is best left to the Mexicans.

I've been planning on making a grievance rap for at least three years now and never come through. I either start too late to find an opportunity to record it or just plain don't start early enough to think of a rhyme for "HOW THE FUCK DO YOU GET PREGNANT THREE FUCKING TIMES WHILE ON BIRTH CONTROL FROM DUDES YOU'VE KNOWN LESS THAN A FUCKING MONTH YOU FUCKING WHORE?!?!??!?!?!?!!?!?". God damn it. If you say you are going to come down here, then all I ask is that you go three months without getting knocked up. I guess that's why you just leave ex-es alone. The only thing that they are good for is blowing the dude with coke so that you don't have to yourself.

Also, to the ladies that get all offended or taken aback or shocked or whatever when I ask them if they want to touch my balls or not...fuck yinz. It's not 1958. If I'm talking to you at all and you are a woman that weighs less than me with a pulse and a redeeming feature...don't pretend to be so naive that you don't think I want to do you. That's all I want to do, probably. I want to have intercourse with you. Keep that in mind from the start. I'm not doing carbombs because it's good for conversation. Nice tits.

I don't know what else to grieve about. I already hate work, but so does everyone else. I've been here for almost three years...I know that it's hot. I know that there are 20 million people here and most of them speak Creole. I know that Gunpowder Jones isn't a big-time rapper yet and likely won't be in the future. I hate just about all people, but that isn't new. I don't know. I hate when athletes point up at the sky after a touchdown like Jesus cares, but that isn't new either. Maybe I'll slam my mouse down after sending an email out and point upwards. That will show Tim Tebow.

I do want to grieve about how some people grieve. Should I grieve about x, or should I maybe grieve about y, or should I just...you know what? I don't care what you grieve about for Festivus on a fucking blog. It's your life, dude. Write more than one paragraph. Use punctuation. Separate different thoughts with commas and all that jazz. I don't care. I also hate being forced to grieve. If I have an idea, I can write about it. If not, I come up with blithering tripe like this. I'm actually complaining about watching people pre-grieve. Yes...this is the life.

I hate many, many things. The problem is that I don't remember them until I actually find myself hating them.