I just cleaned up barf from Mr. Z's floor. He's been home from school for a couple of days with some sort of hacking phlegm-plague and, up until a few minutes ago, has only been spraying the house with horked up sputum. Apparently, he was just coughing so hard that, well, that he fucking yooked... which is just what I needed, right about now, as the Old Lady has conveniently had meetings for the last three afternoon/nights and it's been a non-stop, brain-hemorrhage-inducing spawn-o-palooz-shit.
Oh, and I'm pretty sure I've contracted Mr. Z's goddamn plague, which fucking rocks!
I think the BlogOverlord is punishing me for taking a fucking break from posting... fucking dick. Good thing I'm a atheist.
The only thing that's actually made me crack the faintest of smiles through my humorless, death-mask-like physiognomy was this:
I feel like Turtle Tim but I really wish I were the Eggman. He seems so much happier, that Eggman.
Goo goo ga joob.