2003-08-06 / 1:30 p.m.

I think maybe Chuck's been inhaling fumes from that god-awful thing he drives in his effort to compensate for the tine cock... I understand that it's been his great ambition in life to sling seafood, but I couldn't possibly care any less where my goddamn paycheck comes from and I think I'll leave just to make that point. I'm not there now. I'll go back, for Dana, but I'm leaving here now with ten copies of my resume and all the phoen nubmers I could possible ever need. Plus I just learned two new software programs I can add to my resume without mentioning where they came from since I only worked for a week. Ha. Don't fuck with me, little man.

Guit trips. I hate fucking people trying to make me feel guiltly. You're not my mother, asshole, so shut the fuck up. With the sending back to Tampa and company policy and bitch bitch bitch. Threaten me. Go right ahead. Watch how I get another job tomorrow and tell you to fuck off. Asshole asshole asshole.

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