I just found out the company where I used to work for four hellacious years has a website. Isn’t the picture of the owners, standing proudly beside a haunting portrait of their dead parents, so inviting? I know it sure makes me want to go in and buy a pound of bacon.
I see words like "dedicated," honesty" and "integrity" tossed around in their manifesto and now I’m laughing. They forgot to mention that they employ rapists and rub out the dates on expired cases of poultry so they can still sell it.
Unfortunately, my amusement is negated by Eleanore and her constant rotation of Mary J. Blige CDs. She’s been on this kick for at least a month now and she listens to it so loudly so we can hear, with absolute clarity, every lyric sung. Like right now, Mary J. is telling me I’m her everything. I used to like Mary J. but now I kind of wish she’d go to hell and take Eleanore with her.