Today at The Candy Shoppe, we have our first ever guest hawker…
Yay!!! I’m excited and you should be too.
Today’s piece comes from a long time friend, who also just happens to be a professional.
Yup, we’ve got our very own doctor of the you are crazy so come lay on my couch and talk variety.
And without further ado, here are some thoughts brought to us by Dr. Jae:
People suck… not in the enjoyable way of pre-coitus fellatio.
But in the draining the life out of you with their pointless rhetoric.
Such rhetoric includes their goals, dreams, and aspirations that everyone knows are not ever going to meet fruition because they are too lazy, stupid, ugly, boring, or some combination thereof to implement any of that shit they insisted on telling you while slowly stealing the buzz of your $30 per glass top shelf Greyhound.
If ever there is a need for a mini air horn, equipped with the decibels of a fog horn, it is after a long week.
Where you finally drag yourself to your local bar and attempt to deafen the blinding light of life by drowning it in Crystal Head Vodka…
And before you purse your lips due to the coldness of the top ice cube, dipshit here decides it is not only relevant, but deserving of all your attention that he is having a great time here and saw you from across the room so decided to come and say hello and he wants to get to know you better only after telling you a gazillion fucking things about himself first.
Now, despite how noble or genuine his motive might have been, it does not negate the fact that this ill timed interlude has resulted in sufficient time to melt, no matter how partially, an ice-cube relegating your purebred greyhound into a dog pound mutt indecipherable in origin.
Utilizing the gift of hindsight, it would have been far more effective to take the ill fated ice cube, and slide it ever so craftily in the walk path of this offender, rendering him slightly off balance causing him to careen face first into the corner of the bar at the cost of a front tooth, and bruised septum.
Both injuries insuring that he is indeed unable to fuck up your flow.
Is the need for a drink a legal defense to assault by ice cube?
This is why I prefer to drink at home.