It’s Friday. You Ain’t Got No Job. You Ain’t Got Shit To Do.

It’s all fun and games until you are victimized by a lazy fat chic specializing in Identity Theft and Uttering  Forged Instruments.  True story.  Someone hacked one of my job’s checking accounts and created several fake company checks under fictitious company names.  One such pretend name…

Pirkle and Dirkle Soulfood Restaurant.  <--------  What the hell? 

I’m just wondering the brainstorming session behind that one.  I visualize Five Methie Trailer Trashers crowded around a PC in a wooden paneled run down trailer house, high as a kite. “Let’s call it the Pirkle and Dirkle…” 

Clever.  

Can you almost smell the broken down, stained, plush microfiber blue couch?  Anycatpiss, know that I Googled one of these fine specimens that signed three checks.  Fat.  Poor.  Greasy.  In each of the 11 mugshots, the laziness oozed from her unwashed skin like a melted Braum’s chocolate malt .  Princess Lazabout-thiefmuffin had a rap sheet a mile long for this sort of thing.  In fact, she’d just been released a few years ago from her last of several stints in the pokey.  At what point do you stop signing your real name, Shonna?  AT. WHAT. POINT.  Do you just go get a damn job.  This incident reeked havoc on my entire week.  Closing and opening company accounts is not easy.  Is not fun.  Is not quick.  Not to mention the increased stress levels regarding how easy lazy butts can do this sort of thing.  It also set a snowball effect in motion for the standard of my week.  That which begins in bullshit and chaos, ends in bullshit and chaos. 

We’ll move on after I say this last thing about that. 

Bitch, I hope you at least bought some soap and shampoo in that $100 worth of shit you purchased at the Dollar Store! 

Stay Classy…