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michael buble crazy love album cover

i was at work the other day and a woman came in, saw the above michael buble album (crazy love) at our fabulous point of sale display and was all “oh my god! you have the new michael buble album! have you heard it? i love him!” externally i rather politely replied, “oh yeah, it’s new, i haven’t heard it yet,” but in my mind i was screaming at the women: “MICHAEL BUBLE!? are you fucking kidding me? of course i haven’t heard it because i don’t want to die choking on my own vomit or staining my shirt as my ears drip blood down my shoulder!” aside from resurrecting my recently dormant hatred for michael buble – he’s absolute shit, beyond cheese, ruins CLASSIC songs (feeling good, save the last dance), and is apparently a douche to boot – it also got me thinking of the disconnect between what is coming out of my mouth and what is going on in my brain.

i am often serving people at the counter and wondering to myself why they thought they could pull off mixing patterns or what causes them to lash out at harmless baristas for minor mistakes or a lack of splash sticks. all too often i’m thinking that someone should just fuck right off while maintaining the cool and poised air for which – i assume – i have come to be known. this got me imagining the outcome if random strangers could hear what i was thinking about them at any given moment. this would not be a good thing.

strangely enough – or not, as my heart is black as night – this didn’t get me thinking that i should stop thinking bitchily but rather that i should steer clear of situations in which my thoughts might somehow – via some sci fi conceit or experimental drug – come spilling out of my mind for all and sundry to hear. i think we can all agree that this is probably for the best.

ugh, MICHAEL FUCKING BUBLE!? seriously…

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