(no subject)
Ugh. I feel terrible. Drinking last night in the deserted Rochester. Cast in order of appearance: gin & tonic, Melissa, Mark, Nicky & Ross. Was fun. Didn’t eat anything so I got hammered dead quick.
This morning my co-workers seem to have made a secret pact to compel me to commit suicide mid-office. Isn’t it amazing how utter idiocy and being a know-it-all aren’t mutually exclusive? It’s so rewarding hearing people who know as little about football as I do spouting their husband’s post-loss match dissection with utter conviction sans insight, like learning a speech in a different language: just sounds tempered with the occasional meaningless, mindless catchphrase spoken with dead-eyed head-nod. Fuckers. And football isn’t the only subject their omniscience covers. Oh no. Politics: Simple. Religion: Eeezeepeezzee. Coronation Street. Big Brother. Morality. And I sit here, my head in tatters, choking back this awful nausea with ragged sobs. Ugh.
On the plus side: cigarettes are plentiful, i've been voted most-eligible batchelor in Catch magazine, Christmas is a mere six months away & the girl in the next office is really quite hot.
I'm really not in a fit state for work.
This morning my co-workers seem to have made a secret pact to compel me to commit suicide mid-office. Isn’t it amazing how utter idiocy and being a know-it-all aren’t mutually exclusive? It’s so rewarding hearing people who know as little about football as I do spouting their husband’s post-loss match dissection with utter conviction sans insight, like learning a speech in a different language: just sounds tempered with the occasional meaningless, mindless catchphrase spoken with dead-eyed head-nod. Fuckers. And football isn’t the only subject their omniscience covers. Oh no. Politics: Simple. Religion: Eeezeepeezzee. Coronation Street. Big Brother. Morality. And I sit here, my head in tatters, choking back this awful nausea with ragged sobs. Ugh.
On the plus side: cigarettes are plentiful, i've been voted most-eligible batchelor in Catch magazine, Christmas is a mere six months away & the girl in the next office is really quite hot.
I'm really not in a fit state for work.