Everything is wrong with me
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Work is absolutely fucking terrible today. There's a lot of:

My boss says: "I need you to research those [some financial-type thing]."
My boss thinks: "I need him to research those [some financial-type thing]."

I say: "No problem."
I think: "I have no idea what the fuck he's talking about."

20 minutes later:

My boss: "Did you get the results?"
Me: [smoking a cigarette in my office with my feet on my desk, drawing pictures of topless women wearing only high tops and doing jumping jacks] "Oh, you wanted that, like, now?"

On top of that, apparently the Lord's early Christmas gift to me was the most severe case of insomnia I've had in months, even though I explicitly asked Him for Nair for Men so that I could take care of my back hair (jerk).

The good thing is that my navy blue shirt really brings up the dark blue hues under my eyes. I ran into a friend in an elevator full of partners with whom I work with but don't really know and he blurted out, "Man, you look like crap. Late night boozin' last night?" I contemplated punching him in the basement, but instead I said, "No, I went over to your mom's and raw-dogged her, but she wouldn't let me leave. Man, that woman just really loves dick. Now I know where your sister and your brother get it from. Your dad, not so much - he just likes to watch me whack off."

[Ok, so maybe I didn't say that, but I wanted to. So sue me for having some integrity.]

So that's all I got. I'll make it up to you tomorrow.

(well, probably not)

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