||[Nov. 9th, 2004|09:41 pm]
A post-FF7 roleplay
|||||Metallica: Hell's Bells||]|
Hey, you dumbasses, you're overwhelming the world with bad angst. Next thing you'll be writing poems about death and darkness and using AOLer-speak. Quick, someone hide the razors! An easy death is too good for writers of angsty teen poetry.
Aside from that, I shall now bitch about work. Because when I bitch, it's cooler than angst, therefore invalidating your respective existences. Ha! There's logic for you, eh?
Today Rude and I got to tour the non-Shinra establishments, aka walk around town and look threatening to make sure everyone knows Shinra Is Watching You. Around noon we got bored and headed to Gator Gil, the arcade down by the foot of Shinra HQ. Well, the fucking DDR Extreme was broken, so scratch that, right? It ate my fucking gil. Rude laughed at me, you know how it is, with that little twitch at the corner of his mouth that means he knows you'll beat the shit out of him if he dares make a noise? Fucktard. So after that we went down to the waterfront, despite my better judgment, and it fucking reeked. I threw up from the smell. Well, okay, maybe I drank a bit too much too early in the day, but the smell triggered it. So fucking nasty. I'm just glad it's Rude's night to "guard" Seph-sweetums tonight, because I'm going for the hair of the dog that bit me, and Sephi-sugar is fucking annoying when he's pissed, and you can't drink around him without losing a bottle or two. Keep that in mind, Cloud - the man holds liquor like a sieve.
Speaking of which, Cloud, do not tell me you actually took Seph-darling down to the "beach." That is such a liability. I am not kidding. How the hell did the Prez even consider you for this job? He travelled with you guys (kinda) so he should know how much of a spaceshot you are, right? Not to be rude, just keeping ya'll honest. Rude and I should write you a guide to babysitting Sephypoo.