My scanner isn’t working today, so instead of giving you a picture, I’ll give you a thousand words.

Actually, nah. I’ll save those thousand words for the post with the picture. Instead, I’ll give you a catch-phrase:

“This is MY kinda Thursday.”

Feel free to use it whenever you wish.

There’s only one justifiable reason for a man to shoot another man: Practice.

So… Let’s see… If I were a doctor I would get to call myself Dr. Ryall. But If I were a Boxer, I wouldn’t get to call myself Bxr. Ryall? This society is even more corrupt than I had originally believed it to be! To Hell With You ALL!

Haiku!

Forever ugly.
That is the way of my man.
The Elephant Man!

It looks like I’m about to have a couple of bad nights at work. I fully expect to be even more bitter than usual very soon.

I hate my job. It’s probably not healthy how much I hate my job. I have the same constant dull headache and sensitivity to light that bothered me all through school, but at least there were some things about school that I liked. I hate my job. And I don’t get Summer off anymore.

I want to quit, but then I’d have to start some other job where I’m not paid as much. And loathe though I am to spend a life for no reason beyond acquiring wealth, that seems to be how this society wants me to go about this.

But I can say that a certain local newspaper is lucky I’m not half the pyromaniac the congregation of St. Andrews Catholic Church believed me to be when I was a child.

So today I had the good luck to stand in line in front of some loud complainy women at the Superstore who vehemently cursed any employee who wasn’t in the process of opening another lane so they could be done quicker. If they cared as much about the existence of entire nations filled with disease, famine and poverty (in the twenty-first century!) as they did about spending three minutes in a line to buy a handful of the plentiful food we have here, I’d be a less bitter person.

But anyway, I’m going to leave you with a picture for a change:

I propose that some Hollywood studio should make a computer animated movie about animals that go on some manner of adventure. It’s too good an idea to fail! Now, I shall accept some small fraction of the profits made by any such movies, but I’ll let the filmmakers keep the rest. Bring it on!

I’ve got another long night of work ahead of me now and humanity shall gain nothing from my doing it. Sigh… Why do I even wake up anymore?

Haiku!

Clocks can time-travel,
When they are used correctly.
So can sundials.

If a doctor can cure a disease, why can’t a boxer cure a bisease? I demand a satisfactory answer.

I am now holding the concept of “irony” as a hostage. I want four million dollars for its safe return. If you do not meet my demands in exactly one month, I will be forced to do insane amounts of damage to it. Trust me, you don’t want that.

Anyway, I’m off to work again. I wasted the pre-work hours talking about comics with Marq and accomplishing little. At least I got to talk about comics… Still… I hate my job.

Meanwhile, if I don’t get my new computer running after I get paid this week, I want someone to shoot me in the leg. For serious.

Okay, so it was like 10:00-ish when I walked Marq to the bus stop as he left for work. Let’s say I got home at 10:30 or something. Then I watched about an hour and a half of Strangers With Candy while I read comics and baked cookies. Then I showered, then did the dishes. I wasn’t wearing my watch and I figured it was about one, one-thirty at the latest. For someone who lives on a night-schedule, that’s plenty of time to still do something. Only when I looked at the clock on the phone it was effin’ Four O’Nine!

Logically, I assume I experienced a blackout caused by abduction by aliens, or perhaps time-travellers. Maybe wizards. In any case, I feel utterly violated by the probing that I assume took over two hours of my time. If I don’t gain superpowers from this, I’m going to be very unhappy. I could have spent that time building a tree fort. Or buying snake warmers. Or washing a sword. Or something…

Haiku!

Which way is the store?
Y’know, the one that sells ham.
I know that you know.

Honestly. I was multitasking! That should have saved me time, not allowed it to slip away unnoticed. Curses!

There is only truly one reason to be an astronaut. Space is well beyond International Borders, so gambling is way legal. You could totally play craps all night! Except there would be no literal night, just a time period when you’re way tired.

This, I believe, is why NASA should start sending up crews with astronauts from nations that are currently enemies to NASA’s country. They could then gamble against the enemy crews and, assuming they win, bankrupt the enemy space programs. It’s so devious it must work.

I have an appointment every Monday, so I walked downtown today only to find the place closed. I had forgotten that today is Natal Day, the birthday of Halifax. Which only confounds my day off. Then, I was unable to get in touch with Kip about that movie that we wanted to see, but it don’t matter anyhow, since I’ve been called in to work after all. Yeesh.

And speaking of Halifax, there’s been a story running through the paper about some kid who, given the choice of all these places he could go on vacation, chose Halifax. Now I’ve never been able to hold my interest very long in the articles, but from what I can tell there’s nothing especially newsworthy there. Some kid wanted to see Halifax. Is that really front page worthy? Are Haligonians so insecure about this corner of the world that this kid’s approval is the utmost compliment? It confuses and depresses me.

And now I have to go to work, so that’s a whole ‘nother layer of depressed.

Okay, it’s nine years in the future and you suddenly don’t have lungs. You’re still getting around fine without them, but people have started mocking you and it is, frankly, getting annoying. Finally some guy dressed like a pirate comes up to you claiming to have the power to return your missing organs. Unfortunately it turns out he thought you were some guy whose shipment of musical instruments had gone missing. I guess what I’m trying to say is, the future, she looks bleak.

Haiku!

Golden Explosives!
They’re the most expensive kind.
Worth every penny.

Today I was informed that I needn’t be at work until two hours later than I was expecting. Which kicks ass. I got to be all eat-with-Marq-and-Kip-y. Which is way better than being at work. Way better. But now I still have to get ready for work. Which is less pleasing.