justnick's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- There's one more thing: I got the big slip daddy! BGM: "Animal" - Def Leppard What started as a wonderful vacation rapidly deteriorated into a constant struggle to control raging hormones. It took about fifteen minutes. I saw that first pair of bazongas glistenning in the sun and that was about all there was to it. I slept a lot. Don't get me wrong, though, I had an amazing time. Got to party with the famn damily, got to enjoy rediculous amounts of free food and drink, which I'll never reject, and of course, there's still all them glisteenin' bazongas. I'm sorry if I'm dwelling, but they were freakin' all over the place. Beautiful naked women everywhere I look isn't something I'm used to. [Ed: Usually I make them line up and sign a waiver first] It's been getting bad, people. For instance: I ran out of deodorant, as did my father, so we both had to borrow the girly smelling stuff from the girlier members of the family. Strong enough for a man, right? And remember, this is just between you and me. But at frequent points throughout the day, I found myself finding excuses to reach for things on high shelves, cause my pits done smell purty. I know. Work today was hell. I was back for about five hours and I already wanted to shoot myself. One sales guy, after making a huge mess in an aisle and refusing to clean up after himself, said to me "We have a saying in German. It means 'they pay you to work.'" We have a saying in Elgihsh, 'Suck my sweaty balls you Kraut piece of festering mule vomit', I thought to myself. But didn't say anything. I was too angry. I just stared at him. I gave him that stare that I enherited from my dad, the one that makes children and smaller animals just up and burst into flames. I knew it was working because he giggled that godforsaken little laugh of his. The same nervous titter a child pornographer would vomit forth when one of his victims stepped up to testify. With every ounce of self control I could muster, I uttered 'My job... is not.... to clean up... after YOU.' Guess who ended up cleaning it anyway? Yeah, me. Of course. I got myself all worked up just thinking about it. That's it, I'm gonna go sniff my armpits before I hurt somebody. Excelsior. 7:59 p.m. - 2004-05-10 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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