I almost hate doing this. I'm like the bearer of bad news. I'm a kill joy, the Grim Reaper. Or the Grim Writer. There I go calling this rubbish I do 'writing' again. I am the Grim Blogger! I don't like doing this to you good people... But I have to, its kinda what I do now.
So, as usual, GIM. The beginning of the week is here, so take off the happy faces and put on the frowns. Or serious looks. Or poker faces. You can call it whatever you want to. The fact of the matter is that it takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile and right now, we're all doing some serious flexing.
You are all perverts by the way. I know what you're all wondering. "Did he finally get laid?" Well you sickos, I'm happy to tell you, no, I didn't! Dammit this is getting ridiculous. Its been almost ... Honestly, that's none of your business. Let's just say I am now without genitalia for the time being. Yes, they made good on their strike threat and have walked out on me till further notice. I am currently in negotiations with their leader, but he's being a real dick, if you know what I mean.
Gentlefolk, how did you all do this weekend? Hopefully your sex life is far healthier than mine. I was feeling kinda ill on saturday, so I couldn't even go drinking. All in all, this weekend would have really sucked, if not for one thing... The rain. I swear people, I was in a coma throughout sunday. My family was scared I'd been drugged. I just kept falling asleep. It was brilliant. The weather just cooled everything down. Yes, it made me exceedingly horny, but fuck it, I just kept on falling asleep. I actually feel healthier, apart from the over-abundance of love juice in my systemn of course.
But alas, monday returns. And no more hotel duty. Which means I'm back to seeing Adolf everyday (that's my boss by the way, I have decided to call him that). No CEO's girl. But the worst part of it all, is customers. I have to see those shit bastards again. But what can be done? We must work to survive. Or so they want us to think.
I wonder how I'm going to get through this week. Will it drag along, prompting thought of homicide and genocide? Or will it just flash by, and save the lives of annoying customers and Adolf. Cos I bought a new tire iron this weekend, and it hasn't been bloodied once. I will have to break it in soon. A colleague of mine got married on saturday. Poor bastard. In my usual way, I want to send my congratulations to the bride...and my condolensces to the groom. Poor bastard.
Ill be honest with you good people, I'm not as upset as I usually am on monday mornings. I wish I knew why. Maybe its because I slept like a I'm pregnant with Rip Van Winkle's love-child all weekend, maybe I have finally accepted the coming of mondays, thus I'm dealing with it. Or maybe, I missed these anti-therapy sessions of ours. I doubt they've helped me per say, and I'm very sure they haven't helped you either. Chances are, they may have depraved your thinking slightly. Okay, so you're now more fucked up mentally than when you started reading this thing. But from within chaos comes order, and if you believe that then you're more fucked up than I thought.
The city of gidi is alive again gentlefolk, ready to upset us all. Mean bitch that she is. Working in Lagos is like having a schitzsophrenic wife with a sexual disorder. For five days out of the week, she fucks you and fucks you and fucks you. Then for two days, her mood changes and she wants to make love and cuddle. But don't let her deceive you, cos come monday morning, she'll be right there waiting with her dildo, all lubed up to violate you again. That is a disturbing thought I know, but in my defense, I am a disturbed man.
I didn't exactly have fun this weekend people, but I at least rested my weary bones. I hope you all managed to do the same. Or better yet, pulled off the two activities. Now, if you will all excuse me, I have to go get upset at the office.
My name is Womilee, GIM