From my pocket notebook:
My sickness, Day 3. Will my suffering never end. Kill me now. My throat feels like the cracking Sahara Desert, and I need a drink. My class starts in about fifteen minutes and I really really need a drink. I feel like shit. Now here I am, standing in line behind some Asian chick waiting to use the Cash machine so I can get my drink and all I can think of is smashing her head through the display and screaming “HURRY UP I’M THIRSTY GOD DAMN IT!”
So now I realise that my patience when I’m sick is very limited. I’m standing in line at the cash machine and I feel ready to kill?
WHY?
Well besides waiting nearly five minutes behind this chick as she is entering in what seems to be the debt of Argentina at a speed which would impress a glacier in its Langsamkeit, when she is finally finished and scurries away, perhaps sensing my murderous intent, I read the machines display in dismay: “Temporarily Out of Service”?! WTF mate? Did she drain all it’s money or has she spent five minutes futilely trying to get water from a stone?
ARGH!
I am immediately reminded of an Eddie Izzard joke about Hitler being a vegetarian painter and him going”I…. can’t get… the trees… DAMN! I will kill EVERYONE in the WORLD!” … I’ll leave it to you to judge if I’m joking…
#1 by Garrek on February 9th, 2004 - 9:38 am
take a fucking chill pill
#2 by Plurk on February 10th, 2004 - 1:35 pm
Garrek, have I ever mentioned that your contributions to this blog alway raise the level of intellectual conversation? For example, your great post on your genital, simply engrossing read. And your comment on this article, I must say, illustrates such a high level of refinement and class.