the blag that gets in the way

so i've been working about forty hours per week, give or take about an hour or so. it's not a rough job. in fact, it's rather simple. spray and wipe down toilets, mop floors, clean mirrors, squeegee the smoking areas. but it's right in there with the filth, which is where i think i need to be to really get my mind bent back into shape. maybe it's all the pot or maybe it was the stress of last semester, or maybe it was all the back-breaking acrobatic sex or the near constant fondling of reptilian hot air balloon-esque mongoloid barbarian genitals...i ramble...but something reached into my head, found the tits of my brain and squeezed them purple, rendering much of my intellect useless (the teets of my brain are where i store my usually somatic wit and charm.)
this job, being down on my knees in the filth is where my mind can ponder things. i'm making quick jokes again and teaching people things about the world and about science and philosophy. the job itself is so easy that it takes up only a sliver of my brain power. all the rest is free to wander and wonder.

i deal with a healthy assortment of perverts and bitches on a daily basis, which is not too far from what i would deal with at any job. the moronic and Sasquatch-like supervisor buffalo stomps about with a permanent scowl and an insatiable appetite for telling people where and when and how to do their jobs.

i walk away every day with a bunch of money in the bank and a piece of my proverbial soul gnashed away by the teeth of the filth-mongering wombat-orphaning bastards in charge. but the important part is the money, so i'm going back to work tomorrow.