morbidium's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Take this job and SHOVE IT! Well, this entry is going to be so ranty that it probably won't make sense but who the fuck cares anyway? There's like what, 1 or 2 readers here? So, my maternal unit decides that she wants Mojo to do her brake job because she's a fucking halfwit who spends her rent money on barbeque chicken dinners for her pseudo adopted daughter Sarah, and her little hellion son. And I'm on the phone with Checker Auto parts because Mojo finds out halfway through the job that my mother's calipers on the driver's side are broken, don't ask, I don't know how the hell she's still driving that piece of shit. Phone conversation went like this: Me: Yeah, I'm checking on a price and availiablity of a set of calipers for the driver's side of a 1993 Mercury Grand Marquis LS. Made in June of 1993 to be exact. Cum Stain Salesgeek: Is it loaded, mid-loaded or unloaded? ????????! Me: Excuse me? I'm calling about calipers. What the fuck does that have to do with calipers?! Cum Stain Salesgeek: Uhhhhh.....I dunno. What the fuck?! Are you just reading off the screen you little ass maggot?! Needless to say I hung up on the guy and called the factory. Now I get to spend not only last weekend, but this one as well, finishing her brake job and putting up with her fucktard ass. So, I'm also pissed off at my job. Not really the job but the cum stain asshats who work in it, more or less. See, for those not keeping track, or those whom I've not talked to since my second little "net hiatus", I work two jobs. One is out of my house doing web design. No, I won't give you my site URL because I do sites for businesses in my area, and I don't need anyone reading this to find out where I live and inform my town that I speak badly about most everyone here, in this diary. Not, to mention I've had an internet stalker once, twice would cause me to shove something hard and breakable up the stalker's dickhole. Anyway, my second job is at a locally owned burger joint. Shut the fuck up, it's not your job, and I'm not looking to get rich quick. The manager is an idiot of epic proportions. Last week, I told her that I could no longer work split shifts or dayshifts because I have a handicapped son at home, that I need to be here for when Mojo is working. She wasn't thrilled because she's too scared of her own shadow to hire anyone to fill empty positions. But, literally ONE DAY after I told her this wonderful little piece of news, she came up to me with the schedule and blatently asked me if I could please work dayshift on parade day because it's one of their busiest days of the year. What part of "I can NO LONGER work dayshifts do you not understand you fucking piece of monkey shit?! I looked her square in the eye and said,"No, I can't. I have no one to look after my son during the day. Plus, being PARADE DAY, I'm taking my kids to the PARADE!" I swear she looked at me dead in the face, and said,"Couldn't you find anyone to watch them?" ???! Fucking moron! No! I can't if it's all the same to you, I'm their mother, why can't I work nights and do shit with my kids during the day?! I swear she'll shit herself when I tell her soon that as off August 31st, I can only work DAYS because of their school and bus schedules.*maniacal laugh* This weekend is all 4 children weekend. Which means not only will I have to put up with my mother, but Mojo's too. I'd rather jam hot pokers in my eyes. Oh, by the way, I've had googlers who'er big sick fuckntus coming here again. Everything from 15 year old nudists to 12 year old naked cat pics...you people are sick pieces of shit! 7:51 a.m. - July 08, 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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