That was my sendoff.
Considering how apathetic an audience I had, I think I did alright.
And these people are so preoccupied with sex and throwing up, it's a wonder they found the time.
I will legitimately miss them.
But not yet.
Daphne (not her real name) made the cake.
The icing spelled out 'Peace out Mr. Warford.'
I wanted the whole thing to myself.
But I had to share it with them.
Dylan (not his real name) asked to go to the washroom and I told him he couldn't.
"Because you didn't want to give me a present like Daphne did."
"Yeah I did, but I don't know how to bake!"
I let him go after that.
So, now I have a month to myself.
I plan to spend it whittling.
Either a chili spoon or a boat.
Jim had a chili spoon. That he whittled.
He also had a long head.
And few other redeeming qualities.
Clutching at straws.
I'm actually thinking about using the month to write a paper.
Defending video games as an educational tool.
Because I'm really, truly, quite odd.
And I've little interest in sex.
Requires movement, you see.
Some selections (don't mutter about what a dick I am
Just listen to them):
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