*My Notes from Crisis Communications today*
My mind is wandering in and out of this hopeless dribble.
I know he sees the pained look on my face, the same look on everyone's faces.
Entertainment Television is fast food television. That's fun. He says that's a fun source of news about serious issues.
The 'that's' is oozing with sarcasm and disdain. The sorority girls squirm uncomfortably, slowly removing their hands from the air.
This is gut wrenching monotone, regurgitating information he already typed up on a hand out. I think I hate this man.
Talk about other things that might be helpful or interesting that didn't make it on to the paper you fucking bastard. I don't need you to read what is on the sheet on my desk.
I think I am going to compile my ramblings over the semester and staple them to my teacher evaluation form.
We went to the Dirty Dog Tavern last night to listen to live crappy country music and drink penny beer to celebrate my friend's 22nd birthday. A couple of birthday shots into the night, he decided that we should have babies because 'they would smash the ball 500 ft. Every time they got up to bat.'(He plays baseball and always uses such flattery on girls he's trying to impregnate...)'Just think of your crotch as the new Yankees farm system.' He's from New York and I think I broke his heart and ended our friendship when I said my kid will never play for the Yankees.
GET IN MY BUSINESS PLEASE:
3 days ago