I will all let you in on a secret. I HATE talking about my job. I hate what I do for a living, I hate the fact that I choose it even though I felt like I was on a year long acid bender when I chose it. You all get the point.

I bring this up cause a good friend of mine in another base always writes to me on IM about doing the same exact job 12,000 miles away. When I talk to people from 12,000 miles away, I want to know what is up with your life, how are the kids, what new drinks have ya discovered, who are you fucking, etc. All sorts of topics except for work. I dont want to talk about work. So the other night when I was in one of my more precarious moods he wrote to me talking about, yes you guessed it, work. I dont even know what he said, what I do know is that I wrote something back to him that brought the convo to a complete screeching halt and I will share it all with you here now, cause it did give me a chuckle or two:

Good for him...he should tell them his hamster told him to stab the commander with those tools cause Kutulu ordered him while he was on a coke bender with Brian Denehey and they were sucking their dogs cock, and then a bird flew in and said that pepperoni pizzas were half off while the neighbor blew up spontaneously.

I mean to me that is almost like someone that is pissing you off with just blah blah blah and you yack on their shoes and die laughing as they walk away all pissed off. I enjoyed this. To Bryan, no hard feelings. But I HATE fucking talking about work here, I most certainly dont want to talk about it on IM. Gratsie.

FIN.