| Mar. 1st, 2007 @ 08:01 pm And then you're back in the frying pan... |
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I... fucking hate the music industry. I'm sitting here in this great fuck country with some great fuck people and some great fuck stores, so, god damn it, I expect great fuck selection. Now, I know I say this a lot. However, I have officially pinpointed the exact time when customer IQ hit rock bottom, and that was the time when there were more copies of Jet's new(est) album than copies of "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" at Best Buy.
When I saw this, I threw up on sight and had to be carried back home on a goddamn stretcher. I lost complete control of all of my bodily functions. By the time I got home my clothes were soaked in piss and sweat. Ever since I have been able to dress myself, that is the only time that I can remember that I wanted somebody else to dress me. I was sick for a week about... three months ago. That is why I was sick for so long. If I was able to talk, I would have called a doctor and asked him to strap my ass to a fucking heart machine or something, and wrap me in a giant sponge. I would have been all like "CPR! CPR! I NEED PINK FLOYD ASSHOLES!" I still have that disgusting aftertaste in my mouth. I'd rather get a sulfuric acid enema than deal with that shit.
Worse yet, in a recent issue of Rolling Stone - which covered the Police reunion - called out Fall Out Boy as America's hottest band. What the fuck? Fall Out Boy is America's hottest fuck band? Can I kill some of these fucking retards?
Wait, no, that would make 'em happy, can't do that. |
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