Monday Morning Cheer and Random Notes

Hello all. This is the fabulous Rachel posting.

More fabulous than Lady Rainicorn with a voice translator making her sound like an old man.

If there is one thing in existence that most adults can agree upon it is the feeling of dread that the alarm clock brings on a Monday morning. 

100% sure that this is Cthulhu's creation. 

Going to work on a Monday morning is probably the most torturous thing I can think of (I would rather punch a baby in the face). 

It's Monday morning! Time to take my frustrations out on the local orphans!

There is no amount of sleep or caffeine that can prepare you for the bombardment awaiting you at your workplace of choice.

I myself can never be equipped to handle the massive e-mail collection that Outlook has spawned over the much too short weekend.

A pretty precise representation of my Monday morning. I can just hear the Inbox calling 'Ha, bitch!'.

I can never be equipped to handle the pile of paperwork sitting by my keyboard waiting for me to finally mark it's milky white body with my Hunger Games themed pen.

Like this only on paper.

...And I can absolutely never be equipped to handle the shrill ring of the telephone at ass-o-clock in the morning.

(Lively jingle) GOOD MORNING! GOOD MORNING! IT'S TIME TO GREET THE DAY! GOOD MORNING! GOOD MORNING! FUCK YOU!

To put today in perspective, I would say that on a scale of 'One to I rape your soul' it would be a 'Satan just came in my eye with his fire semen'.

Yes, that bad.

We can all agree on this point. No arguing.

Now, on to the good/not good stuff:

I have a fairly sketchy memory at times so I have a habit of writing myself notes on anything I can find (stray paper, sticky notes, napkins) and sticking them in my pockets or purse.

This would probably be a successful strategy if when I got home I put the notes in plain sight.

I do not do this. Ever.

The notes are left to stew in my pocket until they either (a) get washed, (b) get stuck in a different place, or (c) stay in my purse until the end of time.

I just saved money on my car insurance by finding this note in my pocket. Too bad...BRAINS!

I also have the unfortunate ability to jot down a quick message that makes no sense, so I am left confused if/when I find the note. 

Why does my textbook have 'penis filtration system' written in it 400 times?

Here is just a minor sampling for you with my own puzzled reactions:

*Colors=Red, White, and Silver (This could very well have meant life or death.)

The color scheme is all wrong! I said red! Red! Red! RED! Like the blood that will soon be spilled.

*Dirt Pipe Milkshake

1.	dirtpipe milkshake	172 up, 47 down
	When having unprotected anal sex, upon male ejaculation into the recipient's rectum, an anus-stretched situation may occur that results in the semen dripping out of the rectum. This is known as a dirtpipe milkshake, aka anal creampie.  Urban Dictionary answered my question and killed my soul. Why was this on a note?

*Cigarette like this (I don't smoke. What the fuck was I talking about?)

Gran-Gran smokes a cigarette like this.

*"If the perineum is longer, his sperm is stronger" (Indeed?)

NO PICTURE FOR YOU EVER ON THIS. EVER.

*"I would marry the man who did this, no lie" (Did what? The suspense is killing me.)

This man?

*Alice...chandelier! $850.00 (A baby auction obviously, with chandelier included.)

A package deal! *Note* Woman and gun not included.

*Big Bad wolf duck sauce (I'm sure this is real sauce and I'm not crazy.)

Google gave me this. What is this? What the fucking hell is this?

*Cryathon? You'll cry and you know it. (The back of the note said George. That was completely helpful.)

Yeah George, stop making the baby cry.

*A man? Le what? (Men? Never heard of them.)

Men. What do Femputer?

*A big old mind fuck (This whole section is.)

Who makes sense? I don't.

Thus ends my chaotic and rambling post which you either loved or super-loved (probably super-loved).

But on a parting note:

I learned to play Magic for the first time yesterday. I beat my boyfriend twice (once with Kelsey, once by myself). Never have I been so proud to say I played the card game of virgins...okay, okay, the card game of most virgins.

I have the ability to make women dry as the Sahara Desert and men limp like a foot amputee.

Also:

What you don't know is that after this picture was snapped he devoured that bunny feet first.

Last gnome picture (pinky promise and solemn swear) so Kelsey doesn't shank me in my sleep.

Deuces.