A Gold Star For Anarchy

Today I have had three cans of Diet Dr. Pepper, four cups of coffee, a Michelina’s Lean Gourmet (shrimp with angel hair pasta) and a small bag of Munchies- Cheddar! mix.

So it should come as no great to surprise to you that I can’t focus on any one thing for longer than .486 seconds, seeing as how my liquid caffeine consumption has OUTWEIGHED my food consumption in mass and volume.

It’s a bit like being drunk, only the really bad drunk when you can’t focus and you really really want to focus and you already have the beginnings of your hangover headache and for the life of your pet cats you just CAN’T FIGURE OUT why you want to curl up in a dusty, unused corner and sleep it off.  Onlookers be damned.   

This is how I feel today.  After my excessive caffeine ingestion.  I also want a cookie.  Or maybe a piece of chocolate cake.  The good kind with the buttercream frosting made by a fat lady who fucking knows what buttercream is made out of – BUTTER AND FUCKING CREAM.  It is not made with splenda and it sure as hell doesn’t get apple sauce as a substitute for oil or faux milk carton eggs as a substitute for eggs that got pushed out of a chicken’s pooper hole.  Not that I’m sure eggs come out of the pooper hole.  But it must be in the nearby vicinity.  Perhaps I should beef up on my chicken anatomy.  Do they have two excrement holes? One for the poop and one for the pee? One that accepts that gentle prodding protuberance from the rooster cat?  Surely not.  Chickens seem like such efficient little animals.  Even if they regularly walk around in their own poo and eat their young.  But maybe that’s turtles or something that eat their young.  I know if my young came in a hard shell format and I had to sit on those fuckers for days, weeks, months on end I’d probably eat one, too. 

I don’t judge the chickens. 

I have to pee for like the eightieth time today.  I should not have had that last can.  It’s just that I was bored and I still had a bunch of ice left in my cup.  It’s the finisher complex.  I can’t buy packs of gum because I will eat them all in one sitting.  Not all at once like a hamster, but sometimes two to three pieces.  I chew until the flavor goes away and then I replace it with a fresh and tasty piece.  AND GOD HELP ALL CREATURES if I buy Tic Tacs.  Gone in fifteen minutes, tops.  I have to finish them.  I have to complete the project of breath freshening. 

GOOD GOD MY BLADDER MAY EXPLODE.

But I just went like 15 minutes ago so I’m waiting for the rest to process so I don’t have to get up in another fifteen minutes because I’m lazy and I think I have an old lady corn on my delicate pinkie toe and it hurts when air touches it. 

Oh, and that cute little Sasha girl at the Olympics got a silver- god job little Sasha girl! You beat out that evil Russian named something like Slutsville (so yeah, I’m like the bazillionth person to make fun of her name BUT I HAD MANY PEOPLE MAKE FUN OF MY NAME when I was growing up so she should take it like a man.  How’s the Bat Cave, Robin? How’s your nest of eggs, Robin? Are you rockin, Robin? SHUT UP. It’s not original, loser. And neither am I by giving Irina a dirty last name but IT’S JUST SO DAMN EASY holy crap my bladder I may die). So yeah she’s Russian and it’s still the Cold War and wah wah wah.  But God Bless Their Vodka.