Kellinator Jones and the Temple of Snark

After making that last post, I called atomicnumber51, which brought on the most interesting words of the day, "fucktard" and "fuckbomb" included. Final count: 16.

Then I went home, ate my own weight in pasta, and fell asleep before halftime of the Spurs-Lakers game.

Therefore, my count sucks. 43. This is not an accurate reflection of how much I cuss. I mean, I cussed more than that at that fucking Lexus that pulled out in front of me this morning and made me slam on my brakes. Bastard. I didn't cuss as much because I was keeping track. Go figure. And I would have cussed more if I had managed to stay awake long enough to call Natalia back. That would have been 30 at least, because I'd had some cider. Probably more. Fuck.

I declare this entire fucking experiment a dismal fucking failure and wander off to curse at law students.

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The law school sent us an email informing us of a tornado warning and suggesting we move to areas without windows.

This would be a lot more comforting if they had sent the email before five minutes after the warning expired.