#8 - Thassa dirty water

I worked as a PRIMO, Préposé à l'Information et le Maintien de l'Ordre, for the municipal elections at my old elementary school, essentially I was no more than a greeter. 10 hours of smiling and saying:

"Bonjour, Good morning/Good afternoon, bon après-midi/Bonsoir, Good evening"
"Est-ce que vous avez votre carte de rappel? Do you have your reminder card?"
"Alright, straight down the hall and please have identification ready."
"Bien, continuez jusqu'à la fin du corridor et ayez une pièce d'identification prête."

Aside from wanting to kill myself of various causes including the aforementioned facts and the mind numbing boredom, I learned two valuable lessons:

1) People are stupid. It's a fact, people are unbelievably stupid.

2) Grade schoolers are tiny. They have little chairs and little desks and little toilets, just like real people.

The result of this day? Massive brain fart. We're talkin' supersized Professor Klump in "The nutty professor" style fart.

If I were an Eccentric Billionaire, I would do that for a living. I would have a professional business card and everything, it would read:

Patrick
I care...

And I would take the time to get a certain song chorus published, but first, a little background. In my absolute boredom I read every printed word on every sheet that lay spread out before me on the little desk, short of the french dictionnary that lay on the desk. I didn't not read it because it was french, but rather because the cover frightened me. It was two kids forming a conga-line with the alphabet, and the letters...were alive! Not only alive, but generally creepy, like the letter "A", it was right behind the little girl and was staring eerily into her ass.
It was just wrong.
Although it inspired the following mind wind:

*musical interlude*

A, is, the most perverted letter,
B, is, a pot-bellied creep,
C, is, just wrooooooong,
And that's, how, Matt, lost his butt virginity to a girl!

*cut*

On the bright side, I also found my "art" from grade six.


Isn't it awesome?
And what day would be complete without a little blackmail?



Oh good times, good times.