Caffeine & Cynicism

Let's talk about how hot it is.

...

It's pretty g-darn hot! I don't wanna get all dramatic on everyone's ass, but pretty much:

Poor Aunt Suzie. She never saw it coming.
Nah, I'm joking of course. Aunt Suzie didn't melt. I actually don't even have an Aunt Suzie. That I'm aware of. But you get it. If I did have an Aunt Suzie, I'm pretty sure she would have never seen it coming. And I'm even more sure that she would have melted. Today. Because of the heat. Because it is THAT g-darn hot.

My God, I'm an idiot sometimes.

Speaking of idiots, Justin Bieber. Beiber? Beeber? Who gives a crap. Speaking of idiots, That Annoying 12-Year-Old Who Thinks He Can Sing. Honestly? I mean, honestly? Thinking about people like Justin B-Whatever and the fact that he's making three hundred and fifty billion dollars a minute (I'm assuming) to fly around the country singing about babies and girls and making babies with girls and girls making babies with other girls (or whatever it is the kids are singing about these days) makes my soul weep into its cornflakes every morning. Three hundred and fifty BILLION dollars? A MINUTE? I'm sure he's not completely talentless - I'll concede that he can sing better than me, though that's not really a fair test since plastic lawn gnomes can sing better than me - but that's ridiculous. I can only hope he uses some of that money to buy himself a clue. And a haircut that doesn't require his mother's largest cooking bowl.

Now what else can we talk about? I guess this is usually the part where I [insert sarcastic comments about how great it is to make less than $260 a week working full time] but I'm actually loving work at the moment. What can I say? The place makes me happy, despite having a surface area that's 89% reflective. I mean, NOBODY should have to look at themselves that much, let alone someone with a face like mine. But for reals yo, I'm pretty keen on T&G lately. And no, it's not just because of the iTunes playlist Alex and I created on the reception computer that's pretty much ALL Florence And The Machine/Michael Jackson. It's also because there's a pub across the road that serves Slate and Cokes.

On a semi-related note, this is the third and next-to-final time I'm gonna ask you all what you want for Christmas. I say semi-related because what I would like is to have lots of sex and babies with Florence And The Machine, who I was just talking about. Or, you know, at least see her in concert. But yeah. Requests? Suggestions? Straight-out demands? Get in quick, before I spend next weeks pay on another piercing. Seriously, my Mum will REALLY appreciate it.