on belated presents

So after my stellar site seeing mission on austin street with curse word tank top wearing tweens, i moved on to dinner. dinner was steak. the bastard likes steak and he likes it rare. it's tasty that way. you don't need to season it with frikkin A1 or anything else. maybe a little salt but that's it. the meat stands on its own when its rare. kind of like when you get pizza with topping on it. if you need to add to it then the sauce on the pizza is suspect. same with steak. if you need to add sauce, then your situation, for you is suspect and can be concurrently improved by ordering the chicken heretofore. go on, do it stupid! anyway, robbo and the bird lady bought me this nice rubberband pistol (its a smith and wesson 1911!) so that i can smite my enemies. well not smite and not really enemies (set bowel disruptor to prolapse). but i did bring it to work and i did attempt to fire it while sliding my chair across the cube. i was extended over my chair when the chair was stopped by a box and i fell down. i didn't fool anyone. the bastard made a loud thud and i missed my target. i followed up by standing on my desk and fired 3 rounds into the photo editor's cubicle. good thing that the editor is out of the office this week. good times. ain't we lucky we got em.

—the bastard