The flu is a whore. She grabbed hold of my life last Saturday and sucked on it like a 2 dollar French hooker. I'm still running a goddamned fever which no amount of drugs seems to be able to put a dent in. A week of sweating, coughing, vomiting, no sleep and even less food does NOT make for a happy me.
Lung capacity? Who needs it. Appetite? Bah, piss on it. There's something almost dream-like about the altered state of consciousness you enter after enduring a 103+ fever for a few days without sleep, then working a twelve hour day in a car dealership. I wouldn't have bought a car from myself. I would have actually run in fear from the guy who shakily extended a hand in my direction while dripping with sweat in an ice-cold dealership.
Customers aren't picky however, so the pox hasn't really hindered my sales ability. Oh well, today was day two back at work and my ability to eat and retain food has improved drastically. So much so in fact that as a near-Spartan test of my masculinity, I ordered Chipotle for dinner with everyone else tonight. Like a real man, I ate every damn bit of that steak burrito bol. I'm waiting for the inevitable ass-ripping blast of shredded-glass diarrhea that meal usually entails. I guess the best analogy would be it's like shitting napalm. Imagine bloody flames shooting out of your ass and scorching the bowl and you've pretty much nailed it.
Now that I think about it, Chipotle burritos are kind of like the ultimate smart weapon. They target a specific group of risk-taking individuals and selectively take them out of commission between one to four hours after consumption. Perfect in its evil ingenuity.
Ok, enough ranting about my lungs and my ass. How self important do I really need to get? Better things happen in dealerships to talk about. Like....managing to prank the token stupid guy with the Meow game. If you've never seen Super Troopers, stop here and either watch it or look it up. It's classic.
My sales manager and I (both stern non-fans of aforementioned stupid guy) decided it would be funny to see if we could actually get away with inserting random 'Meow's in our discussions with the spongebob stupidpants, and more precisely to see how many of them we could get away with.
This little shenanigan was fucking epic. Stoopy the dumbtard was completely dumbfounded by the fact that every time we said something to him we ended the sentence by laughing hysterically. He was confused. Terribly. Like a retarded baby deer caught in the strobing lights of a UFO confused. (Are there retarded deer?? hmmm...)
Anyway, he asked if he has something on his shirt, his tie, if he'd said something wrong....everything occured to him EXCEPT the fact that we were saying things like "Did you get meow gas in the Honda?"
He's got to be the dumbest person I've ever met in my life. We actually had to explain to him why we were laughing, and we're still not sure he got it.
Oh well, at least he ended the day with a new $50 'Armani' jacket which he bought from a guy in the 7-11 parking lot at lunchtime.
