My Monday's Best.

To my girlfriend's boss at the corner store whose only recourse to managerial power is through intimidation & harrassment (mentally & physically, sexually & not), who's missing all his teeth & has to wear dentures, who's balding & young, which must be considerably more embarrasing when the young baldie is short, which he is, short that is, short & balding & who sports his short, bald, toothless bad ass attitude behind the wheel off a crica '93 four-door sedan: eff off.

To the chef at work who to a t fills out the cliche that chefs are assholes who run their kitchens with ridicule, intimidation & cutting criticism of co-workers, who is still making the same damn tasteless hot-case items that he was in 1995, who attempted to talk down to me, nerdfox motherfuka who is also, might I add, not too freakin' bad in the kitchen myself, but who regardless attempted to berate me because I asked for some soy sauce with my rice, & then later on, o sure you were just joking, & who's just a little bit, well I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you're a little too tall: eff off.

To the infection (viral or otherwise) which has been thrusting a metaphorical stick into my as same front wheel & causing me all kinds of torment (cough or lack of sleep or inattention at work or otherwise) & finds it humourous to lighten its attack for a day maybe two only to come back again with venegence & everything like an underweight boxer or 5:1 greyhound which you aren't & anyway which isn't fair because how am I supposed to compete with something I can't see, etc: eff off.

To those clerks (homely or otherwise but yet not including those with bangs, homely or not) who seem to only find satisfaction & fulfillment of life in their job, selling me at outrageous markups those things which are slowly killing me, & not only that but feel like they're doing me a great service, a humanitarian favor, that they are the modern day equivalent of that biblical one who said "no, you take the baby, I just love it that much": eff off.

To the danties & the dandies who get less than they deserve & yet still much more than they earn, whose ratio of time, energy, dedication & thought expended to bountiful treasure recieved is somewhere around -4:10000: eff off.

To passive aggresivenss all monkeyed up in blue jeans: eff off.

To supposed inherited prerogatives from anachronistic notions which have failed to evolve, which refuse to discern existing precedents & come to terms with their subsequent constructs, & especially to the attempted transference of guilt sown by those out-dated notions, namely that something is in arrears: eff off.