I only have ten minutes
I have a problem. Well, i’ve got more than one problem. I’ve got lots of problems. Lots and lots of problems. I could get into those problems with you, but I only have ten minutes.
Here’s the problem that’s bugging me today. Well, it’s more of a conflict. I have to go out in ten minutes to lift some very heavy things and I promised myself I’d have a post ready every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
I could blow off the heavy lifting to be sure. It’s just that I’m young enough and in good enough shape that I can go do heavy lifting and wake up in the morning without pain. I also know that at thirty one years of age, I won’t possess that ability too much longer, so I’d damned well better take advantage of it now.
I’m also a stubborn jackass and I refuse NOT to have a blog post ready in the alloted time. Realizing all this, and knowing that the average time spent on any one of my blog posts is only 8.43 minutes, I decided that I had more than enough time to write a blog post.
See, I solve my own problems. I really am a fart smeller. Don’t anyone get excited, I don’t actually enjoy smelling the air that’s touched your poo, ok?
I’d just like to use my remaining 3.74 minutes to say how much I fucking hate hippie environmentalist eco freaks. Since it has now become fasionable to be “environmentally friendly” by putting bandaids on problems without addressing the root of said problem, I have become very, VERY annoyed.
At the grocery stores in town, in order to save on plastic bags, you now have to pay 5 cents a bag. OOOOO big fucking deal. I make 5 cents walking through the front door of the office and farting.
It’s just that the new bags seem to be of inferior quality. They seem to be much thinner and weaker than before, and the stores have done a very good job at brainwashing their employees. Take tonight for example, as the hippie grocery clerk that didn’t wash gave me the evil eye as she overpacked my groceries into not enough plastic bags.
With every step my bags stretched, so that by the time I eased my way into the parking lot, my bag exploded like a Mormon wife giving birth to her tenth child. My soda ended up doing the horizontal mambo with the wheels of a Ford Explorer and my pasta was confetti for a wedding that will never happen.
Fuck you hippies, fuck you.
