yes, the HUMP of the week, i am in.

speak as yoda, i have.

fill my motherfucking ram cahe faster and harder, you cocksucking dildo fuck!



ANYWAYS . . . the topic for this extensive rant is:

okay, clear



i admit . . . i used to hate wrestling, wrestlers, wrestler bimbos, the fans, the mentality. i was an elitist - thought i was above it all. "how could so many people be into a buncha' steroid-using, mullet-toting, bad actors with gargantuan small-penis-compensation issues? and are all these mullet-sporting, drunken, slobbering, badly-dressed, mesh-hat, easily amused, white-trash hillbillies acting out some sorta' fucked-up, backwoods fantasy?

so i placed my hatred of wrestling on the back burner of my nappy head and lived my life.

then i met tyrone and we started acting out our own sexual frustration by throwing each other about, like incensed apes and i realized how FUN it was.

throwing people around and getting the shit beat out of me satisfied some base, prehistorically rooted teen angst that i never quite shook [er sumthin.]

so began the feud with helpdesk dave. i have this tendency to fuck with people - antagonize them for my own sadistic pleasure - dave is a wonderful person to this to because he gets very perturbed rather quickly. so i usually go in his office and fuck with him to the point where he curses like a drunken trucker and throws random office supplies at me.
well, having recently aquired this taste for fisticuffs, i kept pushing him. after spitting on his dorky i-mac screen, he had had enough of my shenanigans and actually got out of his chair to deal with the annoyance that is me. here's a play-by-play:

so helpdesk dave bends over and picks up some of my shit on the floor and spit all over it. while he was crouching down, i jumped on his back like a monkey, trying to take him down.

*pause - the setting is in a huge office where dead and dying computers are piled like dead bodies - about 4 feet deep and 3 feet tall. back to the story -->

so helpdesk dave stands up with me still clinging to his back and lunges backwards into the computer pile . . . with me pinned between him and a shitload of angry, dying technology with lots of beige, sharp edges. so i got up and, in my wrestling-clouded daze, grabbed the closest weapon, which happened to be the department's vacuum-cleaner, and chucked it at his oversized head.

luckily for him, he blocked it.

this is my injury, a week AFTER the fight -->

don't worry, folks, the stench didn't go down that easily. about a week later, the same sort of shenanigans began yet AGAIN. only THIS time, helpdesk dave was the one thrown onto the pile of plastic madness and i was the one giggling like a teenage hyena in heat ! !



it was GREAT, lemme' tell ya!