Don’t Read This

Well dabble me with a bit of simple syrup and call me a coffee because I’m ready to be DRUNK. No. That’s not right. I don’t want to be drunk. I got drunk yesterday. I don’t get drunk often because I don’t enjoy being drunk enough to deal with how ass I feel the next day.

Speaking of ass, how’s your mother doing? Ah, never mind. I talked to her last night, I already know.

Business people are weird. Why, sir… do you have to come to the peaceful and quaint café to scream on your phone for an hour about the projections? Can you just stop? Sir, can you please just not be yourself for like five minutes? Mimic someone else, I don’t like you.

I’m so salty right now. You could put me on a pretzel, that’s how salty I am. It’s not businessman’s fault, even though I do despise him. It’s my own doing. I feel like an oversized bag of stale Brazil nuts breaking on the ground right now. Writing is insanely difficult at the moment but we’re doing it folks! We’re doing it.

“But how do you feel about ChatGPT, Jason?” I don’t care. That’s how I feel. Oh, another thing to make us less capable? How exciting! I’m so glad more people are giving up on trying to write anything ever because a robot can do it for them.

Same as it ever was. I’m not surprised that people are excited about the potential of not having to think anymore. We might as well just have floating recliners we lay on 24/7 with a nonstop IV drip of our drug of choice while we get fed through a tube. That way we won’t have to do anything ever again. Wouldn’t that be nice? If we didn’t do anything ever again?

Jesus, businessman took his shoes off. I shouldn’t be surprised. I bet he has a sex doll he named Patricia. Stupid idiot. Why would you name her Patricia? That’s not even in the top 500 names of the World’s Hottest Names. So dumb. I can’t believe one person could be so lacking.

I should write an angry letter to businessman and then burn it or stick it up his ass. Ooh I could light it on fire and then stick it up his ass. Yeah your investments don’t mean much when your prostrate is burning with angry words, do they?

This post has really taken a turn for the worst, hasn’t it? I have to release my anger somehow, and I choose publicly… on the internet… where all of this will be stored forever. Isn’t that crazy? That you can write something and put it online and then it’s just there until the apocalypse inevitably happens and society collapses? Isn’t that wild?

What if dogs are actually just really cool cameras? Like they were designed by the Chinese to spy one everyone and their love isn’t real? Wouldn’t that be sad, if dogs’ love wasn’t real and they were actually Chinese spy devices? What a hard pill to swallow that would be.

I think that would trigger the apocalypse. I’d be about ready to throw in the towel if I found out that were true. It would be pretty difficult to continue on.

This guy is trying to hit on this barista so hard. I love watching other men try and hit on women because we’re so bad at it. Hold on I have to go watch this.

Jesus fuck that was bad. That guy said so many adjectives. I could feel the air getting dryer with every syllable. Sweet mother of the Massachusetts math club that was unbearable. I hate this guy way more than businessman, and I didn’t think that was possible ten minutes ago.

Let’s just take a minute to talk about what a brain full of brass this guy is. First of all, he’s wearing a blue suit and carrying a briefcase that’s probably full of rape whistles he stole from unsuspecting women. Okay, that’s a heavy assumption to make on my part but I wouldn’t put it past him.

Secondly, he immediately started talking about himself. Not only did he immediately start talking about himself, he had the barista guess what his occupation is. I would have guessed he was a professional idiot if he asked me. She made a reasonable guess and then he goes “no! That’s what you would think, but I’m actually a student. (Professor? I couldn’t make out which he said.) I have a masters in _____” he continued.

Yeah, this guy officially sucks. The thought of him teaching anyone anything is terrifying so let’s hope he was a student. Then he started talking about some video and again used way too many syllables to describe where it was from. Then he asked for this poor woman’s number who I will admit is undeniably hot but so is every other girl in Austin so who cares, and then… THEN… get this… he asks what her name is.

This guy’s out here asking for numbers before names, wearing a blue suit, talking about how awesome he is, using WAY too many syllables to describe the Breakfast Club, and then he just leaves? He just leaves! He doesn’t sit down to ponder how dumb he is, he simply leaves. Unreal. Absolutely unreal.

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