I’m feeling the need to break from my normal routine of writing boring reviews in hopes of doing something that could be perceived as interesting. So to do this, I turned to the old trick of drugging myself up in hopes I would be able to formulate some quality scribing in my altered state of mind.
Unfortunately, my lack of money mixed with what could be considered to be a “wussy” lifestyle has limited me in terms of what drugs I had in my possession. The best I could do was to shove Kroger brand “Sleep Aid” down my gullet and let the old idea wheel turn. Here’s hoping I’ve stumbled onto something.
So anyway, let’s talk about revolving doors.
What kind of bullshit invention is the revolving door? I guess it wasn’t enough for big city tycoons to have thousands of people coming into their buildings everyday, so they had to force them to do so in a little round suction cup that doesn’t allow anyone any degree of reasonable control as to the speed with which he or she chooses to enter or exit a particular establishment.
H. Bockhacker, you are the worst human being who ever lived.
I hate them because they turn families against each other. It causes parents and widowed aunts to laugh at young children who get drilled in the face because they weren’t fast enough to avoid the door’s rotation. I was eight years old you fucking sadists!
(Note: I did get my payback before the family trip was over. Like I always say, revenge is a dish best served in the form of a skidmark stained mattress.)
I hate them because people who know you hate them think it’s funny to fuck with you when you have to walk through them, by either stopping them with their feet or getting in and adjusting the speed at which you are moving. Hardy fucking har assholes, I wasted three days of my life with in Chicago last winter. Here’s a newsflash, no one gives a shit about your stupid Peter Pan statue!
I’d like to continue, but my references are starting to get a bit too situation specific for anyone to follow. Also, my right arm is going numb which is making it hard to write. I guess when you dabble in drug consumption, these kind of things will happen.
(Special aside to a coworker of mine named Zack MacDonald; since my right arm is going numb, I must be having a heart attack, right? Idiot.)
So in closing, fuck revolving doors and anyone who likes them.
- I guess their good at providing laughs for dickholes with senses of humor that consist of getting laughs out of seeing either young children and or their closest friends succumb to injury.
- They’ve essentially ruined my life. My existence, both personal and professional, is a fucking joke. I’d say about 5% of this failure is caused by my lack of intelligence/ambition/social skills/occupational know how, etc., and 95% is caused by the existence of revolving doors.
Final Score: 0.1/10