Wednesday, October 18, 2006

On Drinking With the British...

Never drink with the British on a weeknight. They will own your ass and you'll spend the following morning with the cast of Stomp performing an extra-loud version of their stage show inside your head. Then, when you get to work, you'll try to input some invoices but all the numbers will blur together and take the form of a comfy pillow and maybe it'll be alright if you just lay your hurtin' head down for just a second... mmmm... yeah... that's the best...

When your boss finds you an hour later face down on your keyboard, drooling like a sheep dog, she will not be pleased. In her office, you begin to cry because you can't afford to get fired but, because there's still so much booze in your system, your tears are at least 60 proof and the smell of them running down your face makes you spectacularly hurl all over the tasteful potted plants.

As you carry your possessions down to the street, escorted by a security guard who's roughly the size of a garbage truck, you'll silently curse the British for all this misery they've wrought.

They won't care, though. They can hold their liquor.

6 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'll met my most recent boss while puking in the work men's room. If it does not kill you, it makes you stronger.

12:06 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I meant to say, "I met.." Me='tard.

12:06 PM  
Blogger Anthony said...

I hope that didn't really happen to you.

5:03 PM  
Blogger Clinton said...

No, just the part about me feeling like death all day. I am still, for the moment, gainfully employed. But thanks for the concern!

5:05 PM  
Blogger Anthony said...

Oh, good. I was worried you wouldn't have any more funny work stories. But I guess if you were unemployed, you would have funny unemployment stories...

6:34 PM  
Blogger Anthony said...

Oh, good. I was worried you wouldn't have any more funny work stories. But I guess if you were unemployed, you would have funny unemployment stories...

6:34 PM  

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