1/28 get a life!
\_ get a job!!
\_ Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family,
Choose a fucking big television, Choose washing machines, cars,
compact disc players, and electrical tin openers.
\_ Damn good movie.
\_ The novel's even better.
\_ And some better lyrics.
\_ !lyrics. #L
\_ get a wife!
\_ That would be worst possible mistake you could make. There
is no escape, save death, from the living hell that your
life will be transformed into. You would do far better to
toss your possessions into the nearest ditch, give your
assets to a homeless charity or orphanage and then live
out the remainder of your days under an overpass in the
middle of the Nevada desert.
\_ return of Bitter Divorced Guy!
\_ hear hear! --Bitter Married Guy
\_ I think a wife might be ok if you are over 45 and not
extremely wealthy.
\_ If you want to spend your declining years in torment.
If you really need a woman, get a gf. They are cheaper
and can be easily replaced.
\_ No, please, tell us how you really feel about marriage.
\_ Imagine going to a dinner where everyone is laughing
and having a good time except you. Now imagine that
the reason you are not having a good time is that
they ripped your heart from your chest and starting
eating it in front of your face.
\_ I've actually been thinking that this would be a
cool tattoo to get, where it looks like your chest
cavity has been ripped open and your heart ripped
out.
\_ restored. -bdg fan
\_ No way.
Choose no life. Choose no career. Choose no family. Choose a fucking
big computer, choose disk arrays the size of washing machines, modem
racks, CD-ROM writers, and electrical coffee makers. Choose no sleep,
\_ ^CD-ROM^DVD^
high caffeine and mental insurance. Choose no friends. Choose black
jeans and matching combat boots. Choose chairs for your office in a
range of fucking fabrics. Choose SMTP and wondering why the fuck you
are logged on on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting in that swivel
chair looking at mind-numbing, spirit-crushing web sites, stuffing
fucking junk food in your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it
all, pishing your last on some miserable newsgroup, nothing more than
embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up lusers Gates spawned to
replace the Computer-literate. Choose your future.
Choose to SYSADMIN.
\_ and then get ready to train your Indian replacements before they
lay you off. |
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