Cyberdine Is Just Around the Corner

I just had a revelation of sorts. If computers decided that they were going to become self-aware, and go on strike due to the long hours and shitty pay, humans would be fucked. The computers in my office had to be shut down for like 12 minutes this afternoon, and I felt completely and totally lost. Even though I had some work I probably could have done. I just sat and wondered about the above, complained about not having my task list to stare at, and ate some of the candy I was given as an early present for the anniversary Sports Bottle's God's Son rising from the dead.

But seriously. Even 20 years ago, how did people do ANYTHING at work? By hand? That is crazy. What did people do when they were pretending to work? I think that probably frightens me more than my DVR growing legs and murdering me for making it record PTI every day, and then erasing it without watching it.

I have come to the conclusion that I could not have functioned in the work place prior to 1995. Thankfully, I starting working at Dairy Queen in 1996, so I didn't have to find out. But I didn't need a computer to mix a Blizzard either.

BREW CITY RECAP IN ONE GIGANTIC RAMBLING PARAGRAPH

Went to the wedding. The only person I knew was this insane pot head chick from college, with a penchant for making up ridiculous lies, who I hadn't seen in 7 years that had gained about 60 pounds. I pounded 5 free Miller Lites, and braved the needless 45 minutes where the "bar was closed", which didn't make any sense at all. I then ate the buffet, which was pretty tasty. Sports Bottle picked myself and Mrs. Juice up. We went to a piano bar. Endured poor service and two drinks. Then we went to Milwaukee Ale House where we were duped into a $5.00 cover charge for a shitty classic rock cover charge. I had somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 pints of microbrew, and we stole a cab. We went back to the hotel, which reminded us all of the Overlook Hotel from The Shining. We put our chicks to bed and closed down the hotel bar after two or three vodka drinks. The bathroom had cloth towels instead of paper towels, and you literally took one or ten, and threw them into a hamper when you were done. It was insane. I face planted in the room, woke up drunk 8 hours later and made Mrs. Juice drive me home. Stopped at Taco Bell on the way home and spent the next 8 hours on the couch at home trying not to die. THE END.