Extended Holiday hours at work = Diminished Holiday hours at drunk. Today I found out that an ex-coworker, who jumped ship to a different company in the same business, is making bank due to more traffic. It sucks, because I love my job, but I also love making money. However, everything in me is telling me that if I went over to that place, I would hate it, and give up happiness for a bigger paycheck. I wish my company was better at choosing good real estate. I wish I didn't have to work so much these days, so I had something else to talk about.
I wish more of my friends were fun drunks. The majority are either destructive assholes or those people who get more annoying ever swig they take.
Wouldn't that be nice. A few weeks ago my buddy caused $7500 worth of damage to the hotel room he was in when we were in NYC. All because he thought it would be funny to set off of a fire extinguisher to wake someone up.
During these chilly but brisk holiday times, why there's nothing I enjoy more than putting on a thick knit sweater, making a nice cup of hot cocoa and cozying up to the fire to read some utterly sociopathic Whore Logic: ...this girl's ashes should be scattered with Hitler's.
Unrelated- Crown, you going to see the Headstones on Dec 26 in London? My husband and his buddies are going as part of a sorry-we-didn't-do-this-before-you-got-married,-let's-do-it-afterwards post-wedding you're-not-a-bachelor-anymore bachelor party.
I much prefer not waiting for chicks like that. I rather enjoy checking on facebook to see the latest addition to the deadbeat household or the fact that they still don't have a serious job. Or that there is no long term plan for after they exhaust their 20's working in a club. Wake up one day and realize they have not a single shred of marketable experience to get a real job while at the same time, not be cute enough to keep being a skank for a living. Thanks for being a valued member of the spank bank though. Theres a really soft old t-shirt with your name all over it.
I am trying to win them every day because I think it's sold out. I may be out of town on Boxing day anyway. Fucking sucks.
I like how you equate a cum soaked, crusted over cotton t-shirt as "really soft". I can picture you hovering over your computer, checking facebook doing this. DO YOU SEE!