Pop tart morning menace.
It doesn't bode well for the day when the first thing you do is burn yourself on a pop tart. I mean, really burn yourself. I've actually got a small blister forming on the tip of my index finger. I don't know what kind of demonic, nuclear-powered toaster we've got going in the office kitchen, but I did not think it was possible to toast a cheap breakfast pastry to malicious temperatures. I stand corrected.
This is in keeping with the theme of late, I suppose. Any minute now I'm hoping things will get back to a normal, only slightly fucked-up state. As it is, I'm still in limbo regarding all things related to the wallet incident, which means I'm still in limbo regarding all things related to my finances. Fun! I hope that bitch is enjoying her Old Navy sweatpants. Seriously, how do you spend a thousand dollars at Old Navy? Is that even possible? Accordingly to my credit card statements it is.
A few acquaintences have cringed at the racist overtones in my telling of the wallet incident. I say, cringe away! I'm still cringing at the $3500 that whore racked up after looking me in the face and stealing my personal belongings. We can all cringe together at the unfortunate results of a pervasive urban culture which values designer handbags and rap music above dignity and education. I understand that assholes and degenerates come in all flavors, but I live in Philadelphia and ignorant Billy Bobs with more shotguns than teeth are not the problem here.
When we finally move to Maine, for example, I'll spend all my time complaining about the immigration of middle-aged white liberals. Few demographics are as annoying as the white Woodstock generation; they had the gall to whine about Vietnam after their parents went through the Great Depression and WWII, and they've been whining every since. But I'll save the full text of my baby boomer rant for another time; suffice to say I do engage in affirmative action bitching, if you will. See what a good multicultipolicorrect doll I am?
Now the question I'm pondering here is whether it's semantically accurate to describe a misanthrope as a racist, or a sexist, or an elitist, or anything else. I don't think you could leverage any such accusation, except to say a misanthrope is an equal-opportunity asshole.