The great bard named Tom Morello (lead singer of Rage Against The Machine) and I had a little conversation in the car just now. While his hypnotic lyrics, “F— you I won’t do what you tell me” were repeated over and over in the song Killing in the Name (loudly and with my window down, as it were), I made a decision:
I’m going to have some drinks tonight.
This week? It can suck a huge bag of dicks. And maybe I’d be persuaded to do the same thing if I were paid enough.
This new guy we hired…I just want to punch him in the face. He’s essentially writing his own schedule – when he bothers to come in – and my supervisor wouldn’t let me leave early today, even though he claimed to have a “doctor’s appointment.” Bull shit. I’ve been busting my ass week at work and I’ll be damned if I’m going to have yet another sober night tonight.
I tried the “No Drink November” thing. But dammit, it’s Miller time! Figure of speech (I doubt I will drink any Miller/Coors products)!
On that note? Catch y’all on rebound!