2003-07-11

Anyone remember this guy? Yeah, he�s back. This time, instead of just leering at me, he actually stuck his hand out in front of my face as I walked past him, forcing me to duck to one side. Words fail me. Except for the trusty �Fuck the fucking fuck OFF!� of course. If he keeps on with this weirdness, I may have to stick my boot out in front of his balls.

And speaking of creepy old men, my sister has finally managed to find work. She�s doing part-time under-the-table welding work for some old guy who runs his own �company� (consisting, apparently, of him and his crappy, inadequate welding gear) doing odd jobs here and there. Seems to be a quite a lonely old fellow � he keeps my sister after hours to listen to his rambling, pointless anecdotes, and last night he took her to the casino. He�ll probably rape her, murder her and leave her in a ditch one of these days � frankly, though, I�m just happy she�s bringing home a paycheque.

(Sorry cats, if you�re here today looking for clever you�ll have to go bug Jeremy or Claudia. The fucking fascists at my job apparently expect me to put forth some sort of effort towards earning my keep. Don�t they know who I AM? I am Robin Smith � Queen of the Internet! You know, if you, my beloved readers, whom I love more than a monkey in a beer helmet, would each chip in a small pittance towards my upkeep, I could spend all day regaling you with my effervescent wit. Think about it.)