My Sphincter is a Chocolate Starfish

Ahhh yes back from vacation and into the pits of hell that I call work, probably the extra level of hell that Dante didn't want to talk about.  It's like the matrix, it's all around you, a never ending reality, a dream/nightmare you cannot wake up from.  It's like cutting off of your hair, putting it in a bowl and eating it with heavy cream.  It's like trying to write a check made out to Daily Sex Feind and sign it over to the Catholic Grade School fundraiser, oh why did I willingly change my legal name to that.  It's like tripping out on acid and eating all of the rice crispy treats in your apartment except when you come to the next day you realized you just at 30 cockroaches and maybe a few mice.

It's like driving to work in the buff only to realize that there's been a nuclear holocaust and all of the radioactive canabals are looking at you like spam in a can.  So you rise up out of your metalic green Ford Taurus with two sawed off's and go blasting around like some naked monkey ninja, saying to all of them that this is your way of lexiconing the end of the world, there are no rules, just naked justice.  Although no one will love your body like a radioactive canabal...