  i feel like bitching i hate bookstores.  especially borders.  i've checked TWO branches of the biggest bookstore in the country three and two times respectively over the last two weeks,  both which have computers telling me they have that waste of processed rotted tree bark entitled beloved in stock in the " african american history"  section.
 when i eventually bother to peruse the black history section after first cussing out some asinine asian woman for complaining she was charged 8. 28%  tax instead of 8. 25%  on a 29 cent candy cane,  the area unsurprisingly manifests itself as a completely random amalgation of books with random racist epithets as titles,
 which might as well have been chucked into a tornado and then thrown into a vat of bubbling lava,  cooled,  shredded like that retarded answer sheet in the perfect score,  taped together by homosexual crack- smoking monkeys,  and indiscriminately shot out of a yugo's exhaust pipe into the bookcase for all the sense the employees put into ordering the shelves.
 then of course,  wonderful barnes and noble has half a row dedicated to my best friend toni morrison,  only to emit an absolutely devilish laugh with NO DETECTABLE SENSE OF REMORSE -  as if it was delivered by el diablo himself -  because NONE OF THE BOOKS are beloved.  then,
 to make matters worse,  we have my supposed savior in badminton.  I HATE BADMINTON.  no i don't,  i hate our team.  not everybody,
 just the people that don't give a crap.  we had 69 -  count 'em,  s- i- x-
t- y- n- i- n- e -
 players today at our first " practice.  where the fuck were you in october,  you lazy cunts?  all of a sudden they decide they want to flood the team and take up very precious space in our cabbage patch kid- sized gym with their utter void of passion for the sport?
 when they think badminton is the wussy girly spring sport and the easy way to get a varsity block?  when they think all you have to do is stand around and hit a stupid cock -  oh,  haha!  he said cock!  -
 a few times to win?  then of course,  with all of this repressed anger i feel towards the idiots taking up our team's oxygen,  at least i can look to the coach for reassurance and support,  right?  because our coach won't segregate the team into different skill levels without having even watching half the team play yet,
 right?  because our coach won't favor the players he knows over the players that have actual skill,  right?  because our coach will actually get our team into shape and teach us fundamental techniques and demanding practice regimens during every practice,  right?  who the hell am i kidding.
 what the hell did i do to deserve this bullshit,  did i kill the 73rd reincarnation of the dalai lama while finishing my weekly ant extermination in the front lawn?  the world is a gaping vacuum of absolute sucktitude.
