Whee haw

Lets talk feeb farm.

I get paid 8.50 an hour to be a surrogate parent/bud. Its not much, but
neither is the job. I'm college educated, yet I get paid peanuts to sit
on my ass, and cook dinner. I could easily get a second job writing
during my down times. Everyone is in bed at 9. I spent some time talking
to a co worker and the rest was spent watching beefy men pound on each
other. Ultimate fighting drools testesterone.

In addition to my household duties, I am required to escort my feebs to
the food store. I use the word feebs as a term of endearment. I cannot
use their names for legal reasons, so in honor of the great kesey, my
clients shall be my feebs. So, anyway, the feebs and I were at the food
store. I took some time to dissect the reactions delivered upon us by
warring shoppers. Most people glanced at us with utter disdain or pity.
I prefered neither. One woman was frozen in fear after feeb 1, who is an
imposing guy with the mind of a 6 year old, went after the tomatoes with
child glee. She grabbed her daughter and fled. I wanted to stuff her
into the tomatoes. Am I a bad guy for thinking that?

Feeb 1 is an interesting case. I can't go into his history or his
condition for obvious reasons, but I can relate some conversations I've
had with him. Feeb 1 and I were standing by the movies. feeb 1
communicates through sign.

"Want girlfriend"
"You want a girlfriend?"
"Look for right girl. Girlfriend"
"Why don't we check out the store?"
"Girlfriend. For ass fuck"

He made a fist and inserted a finger into its back end. Yes, folks, feeb
1 wants a girl for ass fucking. He even made the proper sign. I about
fell over laughing. Of course, I had to take feeb 1 to my co worker for
an ass fuck sign demonstration. Feeb 1 was happy to comply. The co
worker ended up on the floor.

On a side, tired note, I want to write something nice for t. Ill do that
when I get home.
~ I was not made to live anywhere except paradise ~