Surgeon General Warning:

3 Feb

I have officially cleared out both the IMU Market and Union of Bubbalicious Strawberry Splash (now with longer-lasting flavor). I hope they notice the empty cartridges and order refills immediately. If not, I will leave anonymous notes alerting them to the gum depletion, followed by threatening messages if they do not cooperate.

I’m really starting to become concerned about getting cavities due to my compulsive and habitual gum-chewing. I searched the packages for a printed warning from the company. I figure if cavities were a big enough threat, they’d put one on there. You know, liquor bottles warn that alcohol will “impair your ability to operate machinery,” cigarettes “may cause cancer”—I’m looking for the “bubble gum may cause tooth decay,” but I’m not finding it anywhere. I think this is grounds for me to sue if and when that fateful day comes and my molars are bleeding out and rotting like a forgotten tomato in the bottom drawer of the fridge. We’ll see what happens. Crest, sponsor me.

I’m ready for winter to slap me in the face with a wrought iron pan. I am gleefully looking forward to wearing hoodies and fur-trimmed parkas and jeans and mittens and stocking hats–OH MY! Seriously, I cannot wait. The smell of cold, wintry air is enough to get my engine revving, if you know what I mean.


Anywho, I have almost completed 1 of 2 sex and pop culture essays. This is very exciting, because a) it’s just another load off, and b) my ass is starting to feel like the castle door in Beauty and the Beast after the peasants charge it with that giant log. Not good. I guess I’ll also toss in c) I have to urinate badly.

Some bitch is sitting directly to my left in the ITC and is blaring shitty hit singles from her MP3 player. First of all, MP3 players are so 2004. Get a fuckin’ Nano and join the club, you prehistoric whore. Her shit-list started with some Pink song, followed by Nickelback, then a Kelly Clarkson “jam” (at this point I looked over, irritated, and noticed that not only was she listening to this garbage but was also mouthing the words), and now “Bartender” is pumping through her head phones and into my personal area. What is she trying to do, break the sound barrier? This is the fuckin’ ITC Quiet Study. Now it’s Britney Spears’ “Gimme More.” All I can think about doing right now is ripping her headphones off her head and strangling her with the cord. I could just tap her on the shoulder and ask her to turn down her “tunes,” but boiling with fury on the inside until I violently explode is more my style.

Hand me a rifle. Now.

You know, a lot of people in this day and age might argue that chivalry is dead. I disagree to some extent. For example, just the other night at a keg, a man seized my plastic red keg cup and replaced it with a “house cup” without my asking. This was very polite and courtly conduct as far as I’m concerned. So what if my knight in shining armor is a gentleman with the authority and ability to reach the kitchen cupboard above the refrigerator. Still can’t beat the medieval days, though. Sure can’t.

“Free pizza?? ……Fuck that guy.”


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