Last time I checked I wasn’t a dog. So this morning after going to the same place ive been going for coffee for a month now, and after ordering the same drink for a month now, I decide to spice things up and order something different. I believe i have that right as a tax payer. Anywho, we’ll call her “Holly”. HOlly seemed extremely put out by me ordering this new, much harder, (apparently) coffee beverage. She actually says to me….”You arent thinking of changing your drink are you?” Im like….”Uh, just for today, then ill go back”. When I really wanted to say, “Shut up and make me my coffee”. Well after leaving….Im thinking of never going back there. should I divorce this place, or go back and order my old drink just to be sure they dont hawk a loogee in there the next time.
Murray’s word of the day: barrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrista. It’s like some sorta honorary secret society that the rest of us don’t understand. semper fi, semper fi, semper fi. I saw this in a movie once. It starred John Travolta. Travolta played a man who had lots of money, but the world was run by barristas. Travolta would cower every time he walked into a Scarbucks (name changed to protect the innocent) as a band of barrrrrrrrrrrista thugs would tell him what kinda coffee he was gonna get for his $5. The barrrrristas in this movie made $7.00 an hour, a reflection of reality, but power isn’t really about money sometimes.
So, face it. You can either start bringing gifts like your barrrrrista is your fuckin godfather, or you can start drinking the bottled iced coffee stuff. Any loogees that have been hawked into that have at least already been pasteurized.
Now leave me the fuck alone.
Dear Murray a tasty, tasty bitch beloved and feared by hordes of basement-dwelling illiterati and their fierce antagonists, the Grammar Nazis. He single-handedly turned the webcam whorefest of Myspace into a lively commerce of ideas, including whether or not the TUBGIRL photo will ever be topped as a postmodern expression of the inexpressible. According to web historians, he has inspired more photoshop projects and syphilis jokes than Britney Spears (who he has been repeatedly linked romantically to). He is also rumoured to be the father of Anna Nicole Smith's baby, a disciple of Cliff Yablonski, and the second gunman on the grassy knoll. Although he could not be reached for comment, he reportedly resides in or near the tent cities along the LA River Basin, third right after the walrus sunning station.
He has vehemently denied all charges that he is any any way responsible for that rash your wife claims "is from the heat".
His primary function is doling out advice; the inspiration sprang from an endless and eventually dull repetition of fucktards failed to heed his words.
A secondary result is a dysfunctional family "round table" of people who contribute innumerable one-liners and personal experiences, rarely related in any way to the actual question.
It is estimated that tens of thousands of readers have "LOL'd" approximately 5,395,645,694,167,467,105 times, with the toll expected to rise.
He is immune to kryptonite, chlamydia, and brainwashing.
Wikipedia has banned PENCILTITS's entry, debating the relevance of his tasty bitchiness.