long hard days, short silent nights.

jeeeeez,
i'm once again not understanding compulsive overworkers.
what's wrong with you?
i got out of work 3 looong hours later than on time yesterday.
.....and it was horrible.
don't get me wrong;
i'll work really hard if i really need to,
during the allotted time on the schedule for doo-dooin' that freaky-diki sh!t,
OR if bobotronic cardboard skeletons need painting,
or even if snow forts need some sweaty scoople tunneling;
it's just i don't want that sort of thing f*ing up my dinnertime.
however,
being a responsible adult with impending fiscal constraints,
i had to make the righteous choice:
there were dollars to be gotten, though,
and i am NOT a flippin' a-hole,
so late night, adults only comedy hour(s) at the studio were a must-do.
i did so many tattoos,
on so many people,
for so many hours.
i took one four minute break to choke down a few slices of eggplant pizza.
gimme s'money. gimme s'money. gimme s'money. 
that was my meditative mantra as i zapwhipped it to eleven for almost 10 hours....
anybody who's been around the full swing albie rock show knows;
the motormouth smartass smartypants routine stays fresh for weeks-
but i seriously haven't talked that much in days, b!tches.
i gave myself a headache.
in the end,
time consumption was greater than wallet refueling,
but a terrific time was had by almost everyone.
(except me, but at least it beats packing!)

the autoclave got cleaned,
the tattoos got zapblastified,
the sh!t got talked,
the cold pizza got ate the f* up.
even lame cake weak weeks get lived hard, my ninjas;
never quiet, never soft....