Time to get back to work ... fucking measurements and a myriad of thoughts happening at once, brutal

[BigJimsWornOutTires]

It happens. Trying to measure something while managing dozens of thoughts at once. It feels like being in a crowded room as you piece together a model car and the crowd is asking you questions and sharing stories. Smh.

 

[BigJimsWornOutTires]

Having so many thoughts happen at once can't be cured without severe side effects.

Imagine having a splinter in the finger of the hand you use often. Ugh, right? And you can't get the little fucker out because it's balls deep inside your finger. A skinny little pale face retard looking feller offers a solution. "I have a medicine that will make the splinter go away. Whaddya say, pal? Would you like to give it a shot?"

However, you're a little skeptical and relay your concern. "Okay, but what's the side effects, you skinny little pale-face retard?"

"Your penis will stop working. You'll gain a lot of weight. You'll have annoying yawns and jitters. Not only that, but you might grow female breasts. And of course, you could die from a blood clot or respiratory failure. But! You won't have to deal with that splinter, hey?"

So here I am dealing with that fucking splinter in my finger while trying to work and use that hand. Smh. But at least my penis works. I'm still muscular with a low body fat percentage. I have no irritating sensations. My chest consists of muscular pecs, rather than tits. And, of course, the best part of waking up to ... life.