...on routines

you know. the bastard should know this by now.

i've been doing this shit.

at this place.

at this magazine since 2002.

i should know better. i should know better that every year, at this time, just when things are starting to function properly, that it can all go to shit in a fucking instant.

let me spin it for you real proper like.

every year, while doing the daily for the gun show, the bastard has to sanswich this between the january issue of selling bullets seven times a year and the feb/march issue. and the january issue is our periodic table of fucking new guns issue. and every year, a certain manufacturer who is very early in the alphabet on this periodic table of firearms promises us pictures of their new guns.

"ummmmmm yah, we're gonna send you a disk. but, we ummmmmmm gotta take pictures of them first. then we're ummmmmmmm gonna send them to ya."

and we make space for them.

every year. and every year, they somehow drop the fucking ball.

"ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, yah. the like photographer hasn't like gotten the stuff together, so we won't be able to send this to you until next week"

"but you said this last week"

"uuuuuuuh ya. well ahma gonna say it again. mostly because i spent last week putting a banana in my ear to lure the monkey out of my brain"

well not every year but pretty fucking often. and then the bastard feels like this for like a couple of hours.


following this is several hours of me being fucking angry with everything around me.

irrationally.

and i can't calm down. and it ruins my day. so there it is. thanks unnamed manufacturer. you fucking dicks! you'd think the bastard would learn something.

—the bastard