SOFT TITTIES ON A WOODEN ROLLERCOASTER

Hey, I'm going to tell you something, it might turn your brain to liquid shit, like, the revelation may be that powerful for you: the shitty job you work, and when I say shitty, I mean whatever job it is you do right now, high or low paying, blue collar or white collar, it doesn't matter, all jobs are shitty when you work to benefit another human being, that job, yeah, that job, the one weighing on your chest, the one causing you stress and anxiety, the one you wake up thinking about, then go to sleep thinking about, that shitty fucking job, really isn't important, actually, I should clarify; you aren't that important, like, you could totally not go to work tomorrow, or the next day, or miss 2 days each week, be late all the time, leave early, take 2 hour lunches, whatever, it doesn't matter, the job doesn't need you, it'll miss you, for sure, it will miss you, but it doesn't need you... I know, I know, that's not what the job keeps telling you, but, to be honest, your job is a fat chick with no friends/an insecure guy with mommy issues who can't stomach the idea of sharing with other people, in other words, your job is insecure, but, trust me on this, you aren't important, everything will still progress, whatever it is you do, that bullshit will continue without you--it's your duty as a human being to subvert the work day, to enjoy yourself, maybe take a long lunch and finger fuck a girl at the park, or, see how many pints of beer you can slam before 10am, or just not show up, don't call, don't email, no prior warning, just sleep in, maybe dream about a giant lawn mower running over the faces of everyone you know.

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