08/23/2005: "KILL FRANK HAS SEIZED THIS SITE"

music: CAN SOMEONE TURN UP THE METAL AROUND HERE?
mood: THERE'S BLOOD ALL OVER MY KEYBOARD

LISTEN TO MY STORY!!!!!

Damn! work was hectic yesterday. On top of getting slammed with claims due to inclement weather, I had to slice some cunt's throat because she was trying to waste my flava. Sounds horrible, I know; but I couldn't refrain from some sort of retaliatory action. The bitch was straight trippin, and needed to come correct! Please allow me to elaborate...

I was walking out of the restroom and headed toward the water cooler for purposes of refreshment. An associate of mine, Rebecca, stopped me to comment on my hair. Since I've been growing my hair out, I've been getting mixed reactions from my cohorts and superiors. Surprisingly, most of the comments are quite flattering and complimentary. I say surprisingly because I work in a professional and corporate environment where all the goons dress like wall street clones and have paramilitary haircuts. Anyway, Rebecca told me that I look like a woman with my hair this long and parted in the middle as I did that day. Frustrated with her crass ass remark, I immediately threw my cup of ice water in her face and swung at her neck with my pen in an attempt to behead her. Luckily for Rebecca, my pen was not as sharp as the samurai sword I wished I had been wielding. With her neck bleeding profusely, she dropped to her knees yelping in pain and discomfort. Reacting to her pathetic cries for help, I strangled her and demanded she stop her whining as it was obnoxious and really pissing me off. Her bloody shrieks were beginning to attract attention and I didn't want to make a scene in front of our coworkers. Everyone here is such a fucking gossip. Anyway, I forced her to realize how lucky she was that I didn't completely sever her head from her shoulders. She struggled to apoligize for what she said about my hair but her pleas were inaudible beacuse she was barfing bloodclots. As she continued to gargle blood, she began to finger paint on the wall with her blood. This daunting task actually served to save her life that day. She wrote on the wall that what she had said was actually a compliment. She thinks I'm gorgeous, that I'm "man-pretty".

I thanked her for the clarification and immediately apologized for my unwarranted reaction. I helped her to her feet, where she accepted my apology, and expressed her gratitude for my cordiality. She again apologized for the miscommunication, and I again apologized for the misunderstanding. I guess we just weren't on the same page about what her intentions were. Apologies reciprocated and accepted, I insisted that I alone shall clean up all the blood on the walls and the floor. This allowed Rebecca to apply pressure to her wounds, facilitating the formation of more bloodclots. Boy, was she a bleeder...

Anyway, I saw Rebecca earlier today in the cafeteria where we laughed and joked about the situation while indulging in the build-your-own baked potato and chili bar. True story, I swear.