Robbie Waaves Goodbye.:(

I think the One From New York has well and truly run out of ammunition. On Friday I had my headphones on low and on soft spoken documentary mode and I overheard him toss something off that I had told him a couple months ago as though it were his own little original thought. Right in front of Me, God, and everyone else concerned. And I didn't so much as blink. I was the very body and soul of unflappable. I've made a promise to myself, and I'm a sincerity temple. Honest.

I understand that some people would get massively out of shape by this, some screenwriters would already have briefs filed, but me, I just cash out my chips. I mean it was bound to happen eventually. I mean am I suppose to get mad at the "big one" when that happens? I probably will, but that is actually the "big one" and I probably will lose shed loads of silver and china, and I may be without water and power for days (load up on bottled water, candles and batteries reminder). This fool is just trying to impress someone whose name I don't even know with words, ideas and concepts that aren't even his.

I may not have much going for me, but perspective never seems to elude me.

________________

Arrive at work on Monday and the one from North Carolina has been out for a week with a ravenous head cold. I don't have time to ask how I have come across this piece of non-HIPPA compliant information for want of the fresh air the vacuous cunt is absorbing in telling the whole office about the nature and extent of his illness. Me. I became visibly disturbed the fifth time he volunteered details of his malady. I just had to. 

I am hardly in a nest of gentlemen. Who the fuck discusses their ailments in public? He brought donuts. That no one in their right mind will touch. Not vegan anyway. He doesn't know what that is. From North Carolina he relentlessly reminds.

I'm listening to Spacemen 3 instead of that shit and I'm the snob. Please.