At 5:55 today (that's 1755 hours in army time), five minutes before the store closes for the night, a family of well-to-do Italians plonked a whopping thirty-seven items at my checkout point just as I was shutting up shop. Most of these items were vast tomes and board games piled in ziggurats, which I then had to scan (or would've, had not most of
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1. Getting flamed on a beer site.
2. The imbecile 'music' I was forced to endure while working at a college student convention.
3. The sight of unapproachable Playboy magazine (yes, really) vixens at the same.
4. Female I know who answers with an assumed name when I call her phone number.
5. Another female, otherwise nice, who apparently (?)thinks of me as a pal/drinking buddy.
6. Realization that most of the fiction I write is self-indulgent goo.
7. Imbecility of my church.
Decrease the surplus population, I say.
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7. Imbecility of my church.
Duh. Haha.
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Well, that's yer problem right there. God must be punishing you for going to church.
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