I made it to work. I acted out by reading about split infinitives in the Oxford Pocket Manual for Something Or Other, which was supposed to be the “cleverest” of its kind. I decided I didn’t care at all if I or anyone else split them, so long as the sentence made sense (group 3, according to the Manual for Something, a most wretched group that picks our noses and eats with our mouths open and uses run on sentences! We should not be allowed to freely breed). Seriously, do people still care about them? I get hung up about, “Hear, hear!” because, “Here, here!” makes no fucking sense. And, “for all intensive purposes,” what the fuck? And all the “yours,” though with the medicine, I am now a perp as well. Apostrophes, quotes. But a split infinitive, I think there are bigger rows to hoe. I think the hoes around here would completely agree. Ha! Take that, Oxford-Boy! I split in your face!
Thank you for listening to my interesting story.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to work on my pieces for my applications for school, and order transcripts from five schools for five schools. Ugh. That’s part of the price you pay for dropping out four times from three schools and then getting two degrees and a career certificate (from community college at night–and that shit was harder for me than grad school was, let me tell you).
Anyone wanna be my unpaid assistant? I’ll give you all the rice and beans you can eat, and you can sleep on the sofa! Then you can do this shit for me. You gotta scrub the bathroom, though, or as I call it, The Dungeon. It’s rough, rugged and raw in there. Mildew is planning on staging a coup, so I hear, from a few defectors.