The Almighty Cthulhu himself rang me up today to shake me out of my stupor.
TAC: You need to write something! You’re killin’ me!
Me: I got nothin’ to say.
TAC: Then post “Nothing to see here – move along”. ANYTHING!
Me: No one wants to read about my crackpot boss or my shitbag *******.
TAC: Sure, they do! People don’t want the pulp. They want the juice. Give them the juice! Laced with profanities!
Speaking of shitbags, I was training a co-worker on the intricacies of cash deposits when he had to take a call from his wife. I amused myself by idly fashioning a shiv out of a ruler, tape and some paperclips. Once he hung up the phone, he said, “My wife said that one of the kids she teaches just left a flaming shitbag on the neighbor’s porch.”
How retro is that?? A flaming shitbag! I didn’t think kids these days even knew how to make them! He said the neighbor claimed the entire house could have been burned to the ground, but I say – that’s why you’re supposed to stomp out the flaming bag, innit?