What the Flying Fuck Happened?

I remember the good ol’ days when Daily Bread was actually fucking daily!

I remember the good ol’ days when writing less than 3 blog posts a week felt like I was being lazy.

I remember the good ol’ days when pumping out at least one book a year was routine.

I remember the good ol’ days when the winter holidays were something to be excited about — feasts with the family, extra days off to chill and relax, snowshoeing, cross-country skiing, handcrafting stained glass or paintings or anything non-store-bought to give away as presents to friends and family…

But now I’m just a dumb cunt workaholic bitch who spends 70-hours a week trying to keep a shit-show of a kitchen afloat.

I’m a raging alcoholic again, I chain-smoke like a fiend, and I’m lucky to hit the gym twice a week.

I FUCKING SUCK!

I was actually gonna take my first day off in 6 weeks tomorrow to get at least one, ONE! fucking load of laundry done, so I don’t continue to smell like a horse’s testicles smeared in dogshit, but that ain’t gonna happen.

Why?

New year’s party, new year’s brunch, breakfast shift, night shift, old women yelling at me in Russian, whiny fucks, idiots, shitty sales management, cunty housekeeping management, people who need a ride, people who need days off, people snowed in, faggoty fucks with fake fucking celiac disease, and endless motherfuckers complaining and thankless that a free fucking meal wasn’t up to snuff because they would have much preferred caviar, or donairs, or freshly steamed fucking lobster tail.

I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE FUCK A DONAIR IS!!!

On Sunday, this one gastropod fuckface from housekeeping, whom I’ve never met, had the fucking nerve to chastise me about cheating her out of a fresh made omelette. I saw the mountain of food on her plate as I was trying to get the lounge cleaned so I could possibly entertain the idea of a 12-hour or less day, but, oh no, I’m the fucking monster for not allowing her large intestine to expand to maximum capacity, cuz a free buffet doesn’t mean shit when the omelette guy doesn’t do his due diligence to feed you the requisite amount of egg and ham, you train-wreck-loser-turd-munching-waste-of-skin-cunt!

Sadly, I didn’t have my stabby fork with me at the time, else her face would have been peppered with multiple, symmetrical 4-tine shallow wounds about her jowls and balding fucking forehead.

Umm…

Shit.

I kinda wanted to write something positive tonight.

Like the good ol’ days.

But I’m very close to being broken.

Well, not broken — I’m mostly superhuman… my half-assed efforts are typically superior to most people’s “I gave it a hundred and ten percent!”

Learn some fucking math, asshole, that’s not a thing…

I guess I just need a day off.

The positivity and motivational chats will begin again.

This I promise.

But in lieu of failing tonight, let’s play the “This isn’t even close to your ragiest rant” game.

Check this one out …  I almost feel balanced compared to it, lol…

Happy Xmas you filthy animals!

CoronaRage 1-0-Fucking-1