It's even better once it's been a couple years and they're starting to realize they're past the "I'm just doing this for a paycheck now, but soon I'll be doing _______" phase.
You're either eating shitty Indian food or you were out taking a piss when they were handing out intestinal fortitude.
FUCK YOU DAD. I'm gonna become a professional juggler, once I get that license! You just wait! I'm gonna make it! For what it's worth, I like my job. Get back to us in twenty minutes, Ms. Bill Nye the Science Guy.
You'd have the makings of a legendary Rant. Or Rave. (You should be way more worried about putting breakable glass up your sperm hallway than any danger of suction. Also bacteria.)
You're right. It didn't work out too well for this guy: Warning, not safe for soul. Really, don't click it. Please. NSFW I warned you Can we work bacon into this?
Oh god, CJ. You mustachio'd bastard. I knew anybody with facial hair like that had to have a flair for the nefarious.
Well that's good, lord knows you've been at it for a whole two weeks, clearly you'll feel the same exact way after two years in the same field with the same people with a slowly increasing schedule. And before anyone calls me out, as I've stated multiple times I love my current job, but recognize I am an exception in that regard.
WTF? My soul is now telling me to run through sliding glass doors and jump off the balcony, putting a damper on the rest of this little vacation. That, sir, was horrid. Ugh.