_kiw_da_wabbit_

"I Have Been Waiting For Five And A Half Years And All I Got Was This Lousy Piece of Dog Shit"

Tue, 15 Mar 2005 23:47:39 GMT

Yep. I'm that traumatized as of now. Maybe I'll grow to like it. Doubtful.

Wow.

Wed, 23 Feb 2005 15:23:43 GMT

I was looking through this just now. I had to delete some entries. Geez. So much hostility

The Thing Is...

Wed, 17 Nov 2004 20:49:34 GMT

...how exactly do you expect your target audience to relate when they likely won't understand what it is you're saying?

Six Words You Would Very, Very, Very Rarely Ever Hear Me Say

Mon, 18 Oct 2004 12:40:04 GMT

"My (cell) phone is about to die."

*shakes head*

An Open Letter To "That" Guy - Volume 1

Sun, 17 Oct 2004 20:16:48 GMT

Dear Middle-Aged Man on the Elliptical Machine,

That knowing look you gave as you gazed about the gymnasium as you proceeded to place yourself on a pedestal with great athletes such as Michael Jordan, Wayne Gretzky, or even Lance Armstrong sent chills down my spine. The way you climbed onto the machine, set the ramp to no resistance whatsoever yet still managed to ascend at it’s most steep setting, not to mention the showcasing of your ability to flail your arms about and shadow box all while giving an astoundingly mediocre effort made your presence more than ominous. While others were merely focused upon trying to maintain an activity level of perhaps only seventy-five to eighty percent of their maximum heart rate, you were busy giving one hundred and ten percent (divided by two, of course). Your Herculean effort at being recognized deserves only the utmost in appreciation.

Sincerely,

Ryan Hult

I Found My Camera!

Wed, 25 Aug 2004 22:33:50 GMT

It was in the plastic Drake University sack that I got at the Iowa State Fair a week and a half ago.

Fucking A, I saw this girl who looked like Katie Holmes when trying to turn out of our work parking lot onto 60th street.

Key word: trying.

The guy behind her let my co-worker in, but she, after I saw her dart her eyes over at me without turning her head, decided to opt out of letting me in. What a slut. She probably has herpes.

That's probably not fair. I mean, what would I have said if it were a young guy, other than "asshole", of course?

Why am I writing in this thing every day so far?

Probably because it's "new".

Happiness Comes In A Pine Box

Tue, 24 Aug 2004 22:34:31 GMT

I come up with these stupid ideas all the time. I don't know what it is. They just hit me. And I need to write it down now, not after the gym, because after the gym, I will forget, and then I will be pissed.

Oh, I'm sure it has been said (or done) before, as most of my ideas have been. I suppose this is why I'm still an accountant. That, and if I acutally did have a decent idea, I'd never have the balls to follow through on it. People have commented on it many times..."Why the hell are you an accountant?", hinting at my creativity. "Heck if I know," I usually would reply. I guess it seemed like a good idea at the time?

So, anyway, with a slogan like that, how could you go wrong? You would be the best coffin salesperson in history. Just add to it..."Get the coffin of your dreams for only two months' salary. No, scratch that. Give me your entire life savings. What do you care? You're fucking DEAD! Just think. It would be such an easy out to not have to have your lawyer explain that you didn't want to leave your estate to the kid you once loved, but practically disowned once you became aware of his sexual preference."

Of course, slogan number two would maybe have to be a little more concise than that, but it's got a good premise going.

Ahh...only the good die young, they say.

Mother Teresa must have been a gigantic bitch according to that theory.

I Can't Find My Fucking Camera

Tue, 24 Aug 2004 01:01:14 GMT

Can you believe that horse shit?

I must have left it at my parents' house. Oh well. That's not really the point. I mean, yes, I was looking for it, and yes, there was going to be this pointless picture that I was going to take for this journal entry, but fuck it. I can't find my gigantic black magic marker, either. You know what I'm talking about. No, not those "Marks-A-Lot" markers. Those are for pussies. Amateurs. This thing is seriously 12 times thicker than those bullshit so-called markers. Like I said, it was to help make a prop so that I could take the picture to go with this entry, but I guess that's moot. It's not like it would have been even slightly amusing to anyone else other than myself.

On to the actual topic at hand.

Fuck Walgreen's.

Fuck them hard and fast with your mom's gigantic rubber dildo.

GAH!

So I go to Walgreen's to pick up my perscription for Astelin (nonallergic rhinitis). Let me back up. I called the doctor's office and left a message for the nurse to order a refill on my perscription, probably at, oh, about 10 in the morning. At approximately noon, I call Walgreen's:

"Hello. Your tax dollars paid for my education and I reward you by sitting here with my thumb up my ass all day. Tee hee."

Err, I mean, the nurse apparently didn't call. So I call the doctor's office again and the receptionist tells me that the nurse in fact did leave a message at Walgreen's. Good. All seems well.

So, after going to the gym (6:30), I decide to make the trek (in my car, come on) to Walgreen's and get my goddamn Astelin already.

Oh, man, I tell you...if I didn't like the words "processing" and "verifying" before, I fucking can't stand them today!

What's to process? Give me the fucking bottle, you jerk. Yeah, so "jerk" isn't much of an insult. To tell you the truth, I kind of tapered off there. The reason? Well, that's pretty simple. Although Walgreen's had me waiting for what seemed like an eternity, their ineptitude really isn't the crux of the whole matter...but we'll get there. Resume. What's to verify? Jesus Christ. If you've ever taken this stuff, it's so fucking bitter that even if it is addictive, which I don't think it is, who could in their right mind stand to actually be addicted to the shit. I think it's almost worse that that bullshit can of spinach that I tried to force myself to down last night. I couldn't do it, by the way. I had maybe 30% or 40% before I said "fuck it". I seriously almost gagged what must have been a half a dozen times. Seriously, ever feel guilty about downing a big meal? Get yourself some spinach and it'll be out the front end stat. So, anyway, I finally find out what they had to "verify". This brings me to my next point.

Fuck United Healthcare.

If you didn't already catch on, United Healthcare is my insurance company, and they, well, seem pretty useless so far. So, fuck them hard and fast with your mom's gigantic rubber dildo, except in the butt this time. So, not only do I have to wait for an eternity for this shit, I have to pay full price. Two tiny bottles of this nose spray comes up to seventy-three dollars. Yes, some fucking fat cat pharmaceutical executive needs another Bentley, and it's time for me to make my donation. The insurance company claims that it's "too soon" to get a new perscription. Let me tell the whole truth here, though. I could get it covered (fucking no-good deductible brings the price down to only $30, though) exactly one week from now.

Hmm...let's see.

Be miserable for a week and save $43 or take it up the ass now?

Decisions, decisions.

Well, fuck it. I value my health a lot more than $43, if I had to choose (which, ironically, my insurance company made me do today...tee hee). Another irony is that the chances are likely, given the quite out-of-the-ordinary hellish allergy season we've had, that without the medicine, I'd be calling in sick some time later this week...if not once, multiple days.

Why is that irony, you ask?

Earlier this year, my company changed insurance providers to save money.

My taking time off, which I admittedly just might have done out of spite, would cost them much more than forty-three dollars.

Maybe I should have just done that.

But I can't stand feeling sick. I'd rather feel good and be at work than feel miserable, so...

Fuck my company.

Fuck 'em.

Now, normally, I like my company. Not "love", but like. Don't get me wrong, I don't care for most of upper management. Really, when it comes down to it, I care for none of upper management with the exception of my own boss, whom I respect.

But, as I said, today...FUCK THEM.

Really, I blame this entire night on our upper management and our marketing department. If those motherfuckers would have gotten their asses in gear and started selling (obviously the latter), we may have been able to say "Hey, look. Our group insurance, although expensive, is a very good benefit and shows our employees that we care deeply about their well-being." In addition, if the upper management had gotten with the times and got away from this "all business is good business" mentality, we would have saved more on the bottom line than any fucking world-class all-star MENSA fucking Nobel Prize winning CPA would have ever come up with.

I curse a lot when I'm angry.