to be or not to be

my word for the today... was fcuk. as in the transitive verb "to be".

no matter which way i turned, i got fcuked. surely i am tempting fate now by merely mentioning my fcuked-up-ed-ness today.

the "proverbial messenger" got shot. riddled with bullets really. so many times in fact that, the tink, tink sound heard was that of newer bullets ricocheting off the bullets from earlier wounds in the day. yes, that bad.

there is a reason they put in "suicide-proof" windows in buildings these days. but in all reality, more people are pushed -- rather than jump -- from those heights.

especially when those tried-and-true-you-can-count-on-me types, well, they can't be counted on.

fcuk 1, fcuk 2, fcuk me, fcuk you.

you know you have hit a new low when inanimate objects begin to conspire against you. water bottles don't normally explode. except today.

today, 24 oz water bottles can empty into a work bag carrying 1000s of dollars worth of electronic gadgets, toys and paperwork.

jack sprat could eat no fat, his wife could eat no lean,
everything she touched today, just fcuked poor o' carleen.

"you're dripping!" my train buddy shrieked after we got yelled at for working late. again. as if we really had a say in the matter...

"i don't care anymore," i yelled back as i darted across the street on a red light, once more tempting the furies before heading underground to the train.

"if you want me so bad, do it," i dared fate. "fcuk me one last time today before i go home and crawl under the dark covers of my bed for protection from you. tomorrow is a new day. tomorrow is mine."

instead, the furies backed off from my challenge and i spent a very soggy hour determining the drying times of paperwork and how long it takes battery chargers to dry out before resuming use while waiting to go home so that i could recharge.