TY A TRAGIC TORNADO pt. 2

picture it kittens...the year was 2014 and things would go from dreadful

to deplorable...beginn'n with america's brilliant blunt comedic cunt who lost her voice along with her life with an "accidental" slip of the knife after a routine check-up

JUSTIN BIEBER lost his morals along with his squeaky clean image turn'n to the dark side of his fame with a linty of charges stemm'n from a DUI...assault charges...disruptive house parties to (of all things) egg'n

and the biggest box office bomb of the year belonged to "STORAGE 24" rake'n in less than the price of a membership at Lifetime Fitness take'n in only an abysmally pathetic $72 total (no zero's are miss'n kittens that was their entire haul after 1 nite at the theaters) it was apparently soo bad that no one even bothered to make a useable gif on google fer this blog

click here fer pt. 1 to catch up of TY A TRAGIC TORNADO

i can't personally attest to how the relationship between Lyle and Telly

had evolved over the years between them both personally...however...professionally all i know from my point of view is that LUSH was enjoy'n a very boom'n success and Lyle pretty much was the main presence nite after nite pour'n his soul into to the biz...though i was not privy to the behind the scene operations

rumors had spread as much as Lyle's waistline had by the summer of 

2013 and apparently there was a rift within the couple as far as the finances went from what i recalled hear'n thru the soured grapevines that year when i popped in to the bar fer a breather and though it had nothing to do with me personally or professionally...i still had maintained somewhat of a casual repour with Lyle as he said that they were hope'n to acquire the bar across the street and turn it into some drag bar to add to their portfolio and asked me if i would be interested in bein a part of it

BUTT unfortunately

by the fall of 2014 the unthinkable happened on the morn'n of august 11th

when Lyle and Telly would take their finale road trip to a gas station in Arden Hills (you can read all the sordid deets by click'n here) and Lyle would end up evade'n the local authorities and the FBI in plain sight fer 30 days thanx to hook-up apps and craigslist supposedly...the capture reward alone was roughly a mid range years salary and had everyone search'n fer Lyle's whereabouts under every nook and crawl space like some sorta expensive easter egg hunt 

until he was finally caught by some soccer mom choke'n on her curly fires when she spotted a dishelved Lyle walk'n thru a drive thru try'na order a hot roast beef sammich with a couple of mustard packets on the side (allegedly)

now i'm not here condone'n Lyle's actions in the slightest...you do a crime

you do yer time P-E-R-I-O-D! 

however...from all i've known of Lyle since the first time we met at my

rental mentals (and trust me...they were just that) his later actions were such a beyond departure from the jovial juvenile antics that i once knew him as that at some point over the course of his relationship with Telly...somethin' obviously had to have drastically happened to change this once carefree boisterous clown into a cold blooded killer...was it a calculated callous crime or a desperate crime of passion? only one person will ever be able to tell that tale

now GET OFF MY DRESS!

let it go

the snow glows white on the mountain tonite...not a footprint to be seen...

a kingdom of isolation...and it looks like i'm the queen!

so recently...to my surprise…i made it 8.5 years at my current place of employment without goin' all ape shit on their ass...which is a very huge...

accomplishment fer me!...ummm…before you start to hum that Cher awful "for he’s a jolly good…" with party hats and parade float cheers…save it!

i don't believe in 8.5 year plans…i don't even believe in 8.5 minute plans

i believe in things like 8.5 inch heels...AND...

 i definitely believe in 8.5 inch cocks

my subconscious has been unconscious for pretty much the past 7 years…11 months…and 30 days...and count'n (the 1st 6 months seemed logical)

i never thought i could or would STILL be corralled in the same cubicle stall

mon thru fri...9 to 5…

work’n in the concrete jungles of corporate america...

crammed amongst the elevator comedians and skyway stalkers...

you know…the type that trap you in hell for the next 30 seconds…while yer bein' lifted to yer own personal cubicle of hell...

try'n to give their best 2-drink minimum routine to the crowd of cackle'n heels

desperately search'n for dinner and a diamond...

or that one needle in a gaystack you've noticed over the past 8.5 years amongst the herd of bad boy band haircuts and poly blends that you finally had a chance encounter to meet outside of the downtown mousetrap maze only to find out he has the emotional commitment of gnat!

my job is no different…or earth shatter'n…or even remotely entertain'n...

like most downtown jobs…(well except for the ones called "blow")…which i can safely say…i have never applied for…yet!

we've all worked with a co-work'n henchman who makes you wish you had the strength of Doralee Rhodes Violet Newstead and Judy Bernly fer a day

to hunt them down… hog tie'em to a chair…and purposely mix up the box of sticky-n-sweet with rat poison while pour'n 'em a cup of sanka...

but since they have the personality of a dollop of mayonnaise...

it really ain't worth bein' someone's cigarette bitch...draped in an orange jumper all day

and of course...no office would be complete without a Roz Keith...

i believe there are 2 employed with me

i've worked with the variable poo-poo platter of the invasion of the entire "burbanation" dur'in my stay here at the florescent bulb heavens in hell...
and have heard just about every story i can ever possibly want to handle...

from kids...

and casseroles… 

to ball games...

and break downs...

as they do their daily feed'n at the donut trough

the work force has forced us to OD on PC'ness…so i guess say'n things…

"like unless yer gonna talk about Madonna or cock…you got know business spew'n yer business to me…cuz it's none of my business!" would not be advisable at this portion of the game

the very small handful i have had contact with outside of the work space have been entertain'n to be around...but we’ve not reached to the level of  "free range" conversations like i have had with all my past places of employment…and that’s fine with me these days

now before you go say'n i should be grateful i have a job in this economy…and 8.5 years is a good accomplishment…and i should feel i am one of the many rewards bestowed on said corporation fer my longevity…cuz YES…i know how hard it is to have a job…let alone keep one these days…but this is my blog…so save me yer speech!

let's talk about this "reward'n" feel'n i should feel...just fer a minute

"REWARD" as defined by WIKIPEDIA has a merried of definitions…but this one best describes my situation…simply say'n "offered as an incentive"

so what's my reward of 8.5 years feel'n like it's "time to make the donuts"

on a daily basis worth...and the incentive to continue down the same beige path as those before me have?

the HUGE party hat and parade float feel'ns that should tickle me pink...

have been reduced to joys of pain...caress'n the monogrammed seat warmer i had picked from a pile of refried crap at my 5 year anniversary...that was left behind on the island of misfit corporate crap…collect'n dust in the basement…adorn'n the company logo just to mock me as a testament to remind me of my misery!

ummm…yea…no thanx!

i'll play the "game" cuz i have to in order to survive…

well…that is…until i get the lotto numbers right or some wealthy long lost relative leaves me a comfortable fortune...but don't count on me at the company picnic to punch the piñata with acceptably outlined witty banter anytime soon

just give what we thee unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of the their own universe really REALLY wants N-E-E-D-S...

a hooker

a holiday 

or better yet...a helicopter ride outta here 

otherwise…just get off my dress!