a day in the life of....

sidonkey

Junior Member
Feb 19, 2008
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My life is hard is a phrase that's bandied about too often, but in my case it's all too true. My girlfriend pissed on the rug yesterday, seven times, because she couldn't find the toilet. My father died in a tragic swimming accident: the pool ladder disappeared and he drowned. My house has been on fire four times during the past week and I can't explain how, but more and more pink flamingoes keep appearing on my lawn and all my wallpaper was puke green when I woke up this morning.

January 12th, 2008

I began today like any other. As per usual, I spent the first three hours I was up cooking a microwave dinner, and spent the usual two hours eating it. Before the car that usually picks me up for work showed up, I hit on the gardener for a while. Something tells me that she's into me. With the gardener walking in the other direction, I went into the living room and danced for a while. I was almost late for work, but luckily I dashed out to the curb in time to get into the car angrily honking its horn at my doorstep. As usual I blacked out for eight hours, regaining consciousness as I found myself back at my flaming home. My wife had set the house on fire again, I realized, as I walked through the door to discover the charred remains of my kitchen, a puddle of urine on the floor and the dishevelled uniform of a firefighter next to my wife's sundress. This was business as usual, so I sat down in front of the television and watched some horror movies. Bored of this, I caught the fireman on his way out and we talked about the weather for a while.

January 20th 2008

There's another floor on my house. What. The. Fuck.

January 21st

I just got promoted. I don't know what the hell it is that I due during the eight hour blackout that constitutes my work day, but I must have been doing it well. I'm an astronaut now.

February 3rd

I checked out the third floor of the house today. It's just huge and full of more of those god damned pink flamingos with this luxurious red shag carpeting and oak-paneled walls. I passed my wife on the stairs back on my way to the family room. She was on her way to our room with the policeman that had recently stopped a cat burglar in a striped jumpsuit from stealing our fridge. He's a pretty swell guy actually, his name's Chuck.

February 5th

While eating in a puddle of urine in my kitchen, I saw the ghost of my long-deceased father Mortimer. He just kind of floated around nonchalantly. I offered him some of my rock tailed lobster but he just made scary faces at me. It scared me shitless.

February 6th

My wife set the house on fire again today. I really need to invest in some cooking lessons. I talked the grim reaper into sparing her life, and no sooner did I do so then a stork brought us our first born baby. I thought it looked a lot like the fireman, but my wife assured me it didn't, pissed herself, turned on the radio, and danced for three hours.

February 7th

A crib has appeared for the baby on the third floor. Assumedly, whatever twisted demi-god is responsible for me during my daily astronauting must have built that horrid flamingo trap for my newborn infant.

February 8th

It's 2 in the morning and I haven't slept a wink. The baby's cries are keeping me up. I made my way upstairs around midnight to give our infant a goodnight kiss, but its crib is surrounded by an impregnable wall of flamingoes.

5 PM

I just got home from work. The Mrs. set the house on fire again. I tried to get upstairs in hopes of feeding our newborn (its name is Fingernails, but I have no idea how I know this). Unfortunately for me and Fingernails the wall of flamingoes was twice as thick and three times as impregnable as it was before. I'm worried that social services is going to take the baby away, and that eight foot tall rabbit I seem to be talking with more and more is making me nervous.

February 10th

The social services woman came around to take the baby, just as I'd feared. Unfortunately, the stairs to the third floor vanished just as she came into our home so she's spent the last six hours eating our food and flirting with my wife. I got demoted back to pizza delivery guy which means less money. Life just isn't fair.

Febraury 11th

The baby's dead, and I walked in on my wife sleeping with the social services lady.

February 14th

The social services woman, her name is Marlene, is still here. She's taken to sleeping in the corner of our family room, and much like my wife I've yet to see her use the toilet. The house reeks of piss. Our toilet is the most expensive thing in our house, a $1,200 job covered in blinking lights, and I seem to be the only one that knows where it is or how to use it. I split up with my wife when I caught her with Marlene, but virtually nothing has changed save for the non-stop sexual romps my wife and Marlene have been having in our brand new heart shaped hot-tub. I don't like the way the flamingoes are looking at them, and the baby's starting to stink. It's stopped crying though, which is a plus. I've been working out and practicing talking in the mirror, I think if I can keep this up I just might get my astronaut job back.

I hate my life.
 

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