Corporate Red Tape

You know, I always feel like there's some part of me that feels like it's missing. You ever heard of planarians? Type of salt/freshwater little wormy fucks that have an ass, a mouth, and a nervous system. Little bastards tend to be associated with parasitism, and just swim around looking mostly harmless, but unsettling at the back of most peoples minds. Funny thing about them is that you can cut them apart and they always seem to come back. One cut makes Two. Two makes four. Four Makes Eight. Both the same creature yet two totally separate entities.  Funny, how familiar that seems to most people. I seem to forget that it's so funny, but that was part of who I was way back when. I drink to forget but I always remember. Except now the booze is replaced by caffeine and I remember way too much. And my hands keep shaking as I type this, vicious fucking cycle. Remind you of anyone in particular? So, heeding my friend's advice, there are three major players in this l...

Look, I've been acting weird lately. Been through a lot of shit in the past... week? Month? Months. It's been months. Haven't been feeling my old, ornery self. Had to deal with a lot of one sided, ill informed communication. Conceptually, the worst day of my life up to this point, no hyperbole fucking necessary. Try getting twenty phone calls in a row without time to even take a shit in the middle of it. That was my day, and honestly, fuck anyone who says they can handle it. Look, I'm the fucking number two of Sanctuary and I nearly blew a fucking gasket. I was so mad that people around me nearly ended up dead. Which is saying something, since I consider myself considerably mellowed out over the years. Definitely would have pissed Jack off, so.. Had to fold into myself a little before that fucking geyser erupted. Softened up a bit outwardly... Less yelling, more like I swallowed an entire jar of body glitter and chased it with a jar of Elmer's paste. Compl...

Have you heard? ... Okay, I know what you're thinking. Don Bluth, 1997. Would kill to get tickets to the musical. Tag, what the fuck are you doing, man? My response? I like watching movies in my downtime. Fuck right off. I barely sleep and stick my nose in paperwork. The fuck do you want from me? I like to intersperse my media experiences with happier anecdotes. What do I look like, some sort of fucking nutcase? Point is, certain events are piling up about a certain blue haired... psychopath? Sociopath? Jack. I'm talking about Jack. The person who I affectionately refer to as my best friend, and they're causing some stir around the office. And in Sanctuary. And occasionally when I close my eyes, my fucking dreams! Including a fucking infiltrator. Who.. didn't do anything except give me a cup of coffee and a note.  Or set off any of the Rabbits running the security office. Seemed like a possibly kind and simply put... well mannered spy. The fuck is goin...