All this working, I'm starting to feel like Credo must've all the time.
I want to--
I think I'll take tomor--
Fuck.
I'll probably be home late.
I miss y--
You know, I kinda hate to cop a cliché, but all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
And for the CHRISSAKE, people. BEACH PARTY. This is a dead horse I will flog until it's hamburger, okay? Summer is going to be over by the time you yahoos pull it together and I've got approximately half a tonne of potato salad going bad in my fucking fridge.