I hate the 'smart' copiers; the ones that can sense not only what size paper but what type as well. I just wanted a copy and I didn't care that it wouldn't be reproduced on 'quality' paper. I just wanted the copier to do what I was telling it to which was simply 'copy.'

As I was repeated pushing buttons, trying to override the copier's intelligence the owner of the company asked "Are you in a bad mood?"

Fucking stupid copier! If you had just copied when I pushed the 'copy' button I would still be standing here you stupid piece of shit.

I knew she wasn't asking about my immediate trouble with the piece of pompous shit of a copier but something else. Who the fuck designed this feature? Fucking moron.

"Yes," I answered.

"What's the matter?"

"I'll get over it."

We went back and forth a few times.

Although, I'm not certain I will get over it.

It's a few things that congealed into something bigger than I wished to consume


...


So, I type, then erase because I'm full of self loathing.

That's not true, I love myself; it's just that the level of bitching is more than I stand to bear.

...

She told me that her boyfriend got beat up. He was held from behind while her huge ex-boyfriend took out some punching practice on him. She said he was busted up pretty good (I know that ain't good English but sometimes improper English conveys the message better.)

It started during a party when her boyfriend asked someone to smoke outside and I guess the guy wasn't moving quickly enough so he got a little push. The guy turned out to be a friend of her ex-boyfriend so a third guy held her current boyfriend while the other two kicked the shit out of him.

The police showed up eventually. Her ex deals in illegal drugs and is violent as well as vengeful. The police assigned a detective to the case because they have being looking for her ex-boyfriend and they want to know where he lives.

She's worried because everyone at the party knows where the ex-boyfriend lives but she thinks if the police all of a sudden find out where he lives, she thinks that he will think it was her and/or her boyfriend that ratted him out. He wouldn't like being ratted out and would do something to retaliate.

Her boyfriend was released from the hospital after a few hours. She told me while she was in the waiting room, a guy, in his fifties, walked in, sat down, about fourteen feet from her, and said he needed help before he slouched over in his chair. She said she could see the guy's brain through the bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.

Smoking's bad.