I adore sushi.
I adore the way that it’s so neatly packaged. I adore the the colors. I know I’ve written an entire entry about how much I love sushi, but I felt it needed to be reiterated.
I have California roll for lunch today and I’m eating it with my fingers. So much for it being dainty food. I’d roll around in it naked, but I’ve heard that wasabi burns like a bitch.
Every time I hear the words “Operation Anaconda” I want to shout “My anaconda don’t want none if you ain’t got buns hon!” at the top of my lungs. I’m certain that whomever named that strategic maneuver didn’t really consider the “Baby’s Got Back” implications. Or maybe they did. I’ve heard that the Taliban women are a little flat and boy-like. Maybe it’s a whole other agenda. It’s about freedom for the curvy round sex goddess.
It’s a whole new world, baby.
After I reset a user’s password today, he said “Ok, thanks babe.”
Babe.
I’m a technical babe.
I am so stunned by that I have nothing else to say. Thus I will render the rest of my entry in the lovely Japanese poetry form of haiku, in honor of my sushi lunch.
“Thanks Babe” he says, smug
after I fix his issue
I’m not your babe… dick!
my bookshelf dusty
guys wearing three pound gold chains
make bad janitors
Unclebob funny
and I saw Badsnake’s Rancho
diaryland rocks
forty-second time
I’ve said “reboot” today and
it’s not even noon
playdoh grows crystals
thank goodness silly putty
never smells or goes bad
Someone please tell her
Walmart sweatshirt with kitties
is not business chic
my desk salt shaker
stolen from the lunch room and
defies Salt Nazis
Glass paperweight sits
an engraved teamwork award
I’d rather have cash
reboot you dumb ass
not just a good idea
it’s the fucking law
Kissing ass chaps lips
Doctor Pepper Lip Smackers
save day with flavor
