Paint It Black

Last night I had Burger King for dinner since it was cheap, easy and I was only a little bit hungry. For three dollars and seventy-eight cents I was able to get a medium onion ring, and two of their double cheeseburgers. It was a quick and simple dinner, followed with a decent episode of The Simpsons and a few puffs off the pipe (tobacco pipe, just to make sure there is no misunderstanding). It was a good evening, by and large, because I was able to mostly put my day behind me and just unwind. This bliss, however, was not to last.

For something like the last four hours I have been in Digestive Purgatory.

Clearly I cannot process grease of any sort anymore. Time to just face the facts and adjust my diet accordingly. Now I just wish my stomach would hurry up and finish punishing me for my foolishness. I can not get any work done if I have to keep running to the bathroom every forty-five minutes.

You know, even I managed to figure out how to count from one to twenty by age 4. Why is it my 32-year-old coworker can't manage it?

My new rule is that if the documentation comes from either of the two twink coworkers I will treat it as implicitly untrustworthy.