UnpleasantlySexy

Well, for all of you that haven’t heard by now...

I QUIT MY JOB!

As of this coming Friday, I will no longer be associated with the crusty urinal cake that you've all come to know as my crummy job. So…no more bitter, humor filled blog posts. It’s all bunnies and group hugs from here on out.

Well…no. I’m too naturally cynical. I’ll find something to gripe about. Right now, however, things are remarkably good. It’s really astounding, actually – I feel physically better because of this. I slept like a stone this weekend, which is pretty abnormal for me, and I’m not irrationally angry at everything. It’s weird…

Nothing really funny today...except for this: This morning, when I left the house for work, I tripped over my own feet and, struggling to prevent my coffee from spilling, I fell shoulder-first onto the hood of my van, which set off the alarm. I started to yell out the big F-word, but, realizing that my neighbors were 30 feet away, stuffing their children into the car to go to school, my auto-language-filter kicked in and ruined the catharsis that a good swearing usually brings.

So, instead of the doozy that I wanted to use, I yelled out the word "FARK", which isn't quite the verbal bazooka I needed at the moment, and then I crashed into my parked van.

More accurately, I yelled, “FFF-FF-FFFF-ARR-RRRR-RRK!” in bullet-time as my convulsing body clonked onto the van, holding my coffee-arm out to one side to avoid spillage, and the van started honking repeatedly, as if to call attention to the idiot in the “discus-throw” position laying sideways on its hood.

Under normal circumstances, a nuclear strike wouldn't set that alarm off. However, since my potential embarrassment was imminent, it went off today. I had to do a clumsy one-armed push-up combined with several would-have-impressed-the-ladies-under-drastically-different-circumstances Street Fighter moves just to get back to a standing position.

Needless to say, children laughed at me this morning (partially because I’m sure they knew what I MEANT when I screamed "fark")...but I remain unfazed. I am unflappable. I cannot be flapped. I am a liberated man.

And I didn’t spill a single drop of coffee, I might add.

FARK IT, I'M DONE!