Morbid blender of cheesy delight
Well, I guess I don't get to bitch about my job anymore. Now I get to bitch about lack there-of.
Worst part is, I didn't get fired. The business is now gone in one fell swoop. The fell being the hand-gun, the swoop being piece of high velocity lead that found it's way into my boss' cranial matter.
2nd worst part, he did it to himself, WITHOUT LEAVING A NOTE! For Christ's sake, if anyone knows me, they know two things about suicide. One, that's I'm going to find a way to desecrate the body so badly that they won't want to commit suicide, and 2) that they should at least leave a fucking NOTE. I mean, for real, your laying there, a gun in your hand, a bullet in your skull and a load in your shorts....What better time to at the very LEAST use the ultimate soapbox to air the grievences that ultimatly led to you airing your grey-matter?
Anyway, I didn't even go to the calling. I spent that time looking for a new job. I'm not going to waste time in my life just because some selfish asshole decided that he needed to end his.
So I spent my afternoon looking for another job.