|I had a bitch of a day at work. My coworker is out from having carpal tunnel surgery, which I know he scheduled just so that he could have some time off, so I had a double dose of corporate servitude to endure ... but will I get double the pats on the back from my evil overlords? I seriously doubt it. So yeah, I feel pretty crabby today.|
So, I check my email and I have to weed through all these mumblings from a Justynn whoever and strange artwork from all these unknown people just to get to my spam mail and virus infected files.. it's not easy y'know.
Then, I ask my woman what she wants for dinner... 'crabcakes' she sez. Ok, that's it, that's the last claw..I mean straw. Out comes the Betty Crock'o'Shite uranium yellow cake mix and a can of crab that expired sometime in 1998... yeah, that'll do. Mix 'em all up with some teeth tartar sauce and some spill water imported from Japan and away we go... my skillet sputters with overheated 10W30 and in goes the batter. Bet that's the last time I have a request for crabcakes.. thank cod.
So, now.. bitter and broken I throw out my virtual message in a bottle into the gyres of some random foaming sea just to see how long before I get my barnacle encrusted answer.
I betcha It'll be like a million years or so. I'll be dead by then, so yeah... I'm crabby. Wanna make something out of it??
Dave 'Crustacean' Collins