nameraka

I work for the health department. Is your manager here?

have we started yet?

86/132 using the metric scale.

yeah, but i mean, that's like literally what you said...

wait. do you mean that figuratively? i am literally so confused right now...

inorite? like literally.

i know. because you told me. just now. also, your mom.

well shit...

well, if you don't say anything, when your manager comes to you about it you can more credibly deny that you were aware of it...

i mean like so literally...

i can pull off morbid jokes that are so dry you aren't sure if i'm being funny or am genuinely sick. i can make even extremely friendly people get the hint that i don't want to talk to them. i have virtually unbeatable b.s. radar when it comes to sizing people up. i can "invent" extremely tasty snacks that are terrible for you out of pretty much whatever is left in the pantry. i've been told i'm a pretty good writer, but i'm too modest to believe it. i've mastered the art of false modesty.

because their lives suck and they like to live vicariously through people whose lives don't suck. also, because you touch yourself.

that was my cousin. you'll pay for that...

howlin' jennings.

it is inconceivable that i am using it incorrectly.

they should make i.v.'s for that...

you should accept all the jobs.

i mean rick springfield telling jessie's girl that he loves her moot. so fucking moot...

unless you have shit genes and get cancer. or get killed by a drunk drive. or are minding your own business just sitting on your couch typing a reply on a message board and a meteor just falls out of the sk

my grandfather didn't like celery. true story.