Back At It
Right. So I try to fucking recharge by looking through this month's Kit magazine, but they're fucking going off again about the fucking wonders of the lastest aluminium alloy gear. Please, aluminium fucking alloy? That's a fucking pussy alloy! How can you get the friction you need to get all the shit off the fucking bottom of the pool? This shit is probably used by those fucking "cleaners" who leave the fucking deep end all shitty figuring no one will fucking see it anyway. I'm still pissed about it, so you can see that just made things fucking worse.
Jon lets me use some of the equipment in his fucking basement like the weight bench and the fucking tanning bed, so I tried to calm down by working on my fucking tan when I heard something. Jon was working on a new fucking song, and it was fucking tight! That's when I fucking knew there was only one thing that was going to make me feel better: cleaning that fucking pool. I was born to clean fucking pools just like Jon was born to be a brilliant singer. We take fucking pride in a job well done, and right now there's a fucking job that I fucking left undone.
See, it's like those fucking tossers at Kit. They used to put out the best fucking pool cleaning magazine on the whole fucking planet, but now they have their fucking heads so far up the fucking aluminium alloy industry's arse it probably hasn't shat for fucking years. That's what fucking happens when you stop taking pride in your fucking work. Jon reminded me tonight again what that fucking means.
If you'll excuse me, I have a fucking pool to clean. That filth hasn't got a fucking chance. This fucking pool is going to fucking sparkle so much, it'll even clean the fucking image of what Cher did on the fucking diving board out of your mind.