Hi!Friday, October 07, 2005
On the Human Condition...er
Sometimes, when I sit here at the job, editing a story by some nincompoop who can't tell the difference between "it's" and "its", my mind starts to wander and sway like a big red balloon over the Nile. I start to think about the stupidest, most interesting... thingies. Like the human condition...er.
Here is what I was thinking. Yesterday, a brief, violent encounter with a certain evil individual left me in a great deal of pain. Stomach-wise, to be precise. There I was, being miserable, and not for being miserable was I allowed to skip work, of course... so, here I was, reading drivel, looking at photographs, matching colours, all sorts of jobs. I noticed I couldn't help but feel incredibly angry, which is something I hadn't noticed before. It was the physical pain in my stomach that drove my fury. It was all I could do from lashing out at the editor rechecking my work; the photographer rechecking my colours; even the porter rechecking my steps.
Ladies and germs, I am the human conditioner.
Spidey is to the human race as conditioner is to hair. It's true. Figure it out. Well, don't bother, I know you can't do it. I'll explain it to ya. Conditioner leaves old crusty hair nice and untangly. Then it gets washed down the drain. Spidey makes the big bad world a safer place. Then he gets punched in the stomach. And rechecked.
Come to think of it, I could be the human shampoo, too, but that just sounds retarded.
Here is what I was thinking. Yesterday, a brief, violent encounter with a certain evil individual left me in a great deal of pain. Stomach-wise, to be precise. There I was, being miserable, and not for being miserable was I allowed to skip work, of course... so, here I was, reading drivel, looking at photographs, matching colours, all sorts of jobs. I noticed I couldn't help but feel incredibly angry, which is something I hadn't noticed before. It was the physical pain in my stomach that drove my fury. It was all I could do from lashing out at the editor rechecking my work; the photographer rechecking my colours; even the porter rechecking my steps.
Ladies and germs, I am the human conditioner.
Spidey is to the human race as conditioner is to hair. It's true. Figure it out. Well, don't bother, I know you can't do it. I'll explain it to ya. Conditioner leaves old crusty hair nice and untangly. Then it gets washed down the drain. Spidey makes the big bad world a safer place. Then he gets punched in the stomach. And rechecked.
Come to think of it, I could be the human shampoo, too, but that just sounds retarded.
# posted by Uh I'm Spiderman @ 10:08 
