Oh, hello.  I didn’t see you there.  Come on in.  Have a seat.  What?  No, I’m not doing anything important.  Let’s have a chat…

Here I am, another Friday at work and nothing to do (as of yet).  What’s up with you guys?  We never seem to talk anymore.  It’s like it’s some bizzarr-o world where there’s this sheet of glass, and I try to talk to you, and you can see my lips moving, but you can’t read lips, and you can’t hear me, so this whole me shouting at you from the other side of the sheet of glass is totally pointless.  But then I scream louder with some assanine attempt to somehow force the vibrations from my trachea through what is now painfully obvious sound proof glass.  By the time I’ve screamed myself hoarse, some guy comes in with a chair and beats me ever so unmercilessly, and you are forced to watch, in horror at the silent smackdown I receive.  Where was I?

OH, hey, what’s up?

Uh-huh.

Really!? Dude, that’s… that’s amazing.

…ly terrible.  You didn’t let me finish.

No, you never let me finish.  Would you please let me finish?  You’re so fuckin’ rude all the time.

OH? Is THAT how it is huh?

Ouch.  Words cut deep, *snff* words cut deep.

I’m sorry too.  Let’s never fight again.

I’m glad we got that resolved.  So now I’m going to go into a self-absorbed diatribe about what’s up with me.  I want winter break to be now.  I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a break to be here as badly as I do now.  I don’t however really want to see some of my grades from this semester.  It’s not so much that I know they’re bad, it’s that I have no idea what they will be, and that friends, is the most terrifying bit of all.  I would be much happier knowing for a fact that I was screwed into straight B territory rather than sit pensively by a cpu terminal clicking refresh on the grades button, praying, hoping, cursing that the grades A) come soon and B) are at least B+’s.  I like B+’s.  It’s like you’re smart, but you not going out of your way to impress anyone.  I dream of myself being that way.  Like Fonz (or Ponce for Clone High fans).  You’re just a real cool dude.  You have no enemies.  Aside from litter.  Which ultimately kills you. Hmmmm.

I’ve decided to join with Patrick.  War on christmas begins anew this year.  I will be busting the balls (or ovaries, if you prefer) of all who DARE ask me what I’m doing for Christmas.  I don’t believe in J-sauce.  I’m not going to his mass. (actually I am, but that’s neither here nor there in this case.)  I just want to collect my materialist goods and be on my merry like anyone else.  Shiny?  Shiny. (Who ever calls me out on the lingo I just used, you are as much a nerd as me.)
So watch yo’back Jeezy!  I’m gonna pop an anti-you cap in it!  (except I abhor firearms.  except for Nerf guns.  God I do enjoy fine nerf guns [Or foam projectile weaponry if that’s your thing]).

I find that I’m sucking down coffee and sugared treats regularly on friday mornings.  Which, coincidently is when I write SHAMBOT! posts.  Then I wonder why they’re stupid, stupid ramblings.  Oh.  Stupid man.