i am turning into a machine
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i am turning into a machine. not the good kind (sex-machine, soul-machine, dancing-machine, killing-machine,) but the bad kind. my fingers are slowly turning into metal, joints replaced by hindges, fingernails turn to glass. my voice becoming more robotic. from 9 – 5 my voice repeats the phrases “C&D Media,” “may I ask who is calling,” “can I transfer you to their voicemail?” My thought proceses grinding to a halt for you see, dear reader, I have gotten a job. But no mere office job. No, no, no. I am a “personal assistant” to a “president” of a “PR Firm.” What kind of PR Firm you ask? Why, a fashion PR firm. That’s right, I am currently employed in the fashion business. Today I got a call from one of the temp agencies I was with for months and never got a call from. They have a possible position for me. Now that I’m secured in a job, they have work for me! Think of the ironing. When I come home I yearn to do something stimulating, keep myself from thinking. Fortunately I haven’t been driven to Prime Time tv, but it can’t be far off. So my new schedule is this: 7:30am: wake up, well I gotta run now, ciao! |









turning into a machine can be good. you’ll be able to pop and lock.
aw, man the other girl stole what i was gonna comment. also, if you’re a machine, you never have to worry about being replaced by human labor.
My work here is done.
But you didn’t do anything!
Didn’t I?
“Think of the ironing.” Brilliant. In times like these I think it’s best to turn to the bible. “Moreover you shall make the tabernacle with ten curtains of fine twisted linen, and blue, purple, and crimson yarns; you shall make them with cherubim skillfully worked into them. The length of each curtain four cubits; all the curtains shall be of the same size.” Exodus 26:1-2.
“You, Robot” FEATURING Hari Rex AS Will Smith…
Reminds me of Sir Dutt who once told me he would soon be playing robotic sex pop with the DJ’s of Black Eyed Peas. This somehow did not pan out.