Dilemma, it seems...
Since the last bloggings, I have been upto numerous 'things' (yes, yes, raaapeee!), but most of them aren't really worth talking about (due to trial pending... (no, i am not a sex offender, it's just really boring stuff that you honestly wouldn't bother reading)).
As a nice break to the hard, monotonous day, and also as a celebration of completing 18 arbitary units of measurement on the planet, I will be accompanying a few friends out on a 'social gathering' ('pissup, coupled with sexist jeers and wanton substance abuse-athon').
At this point, I introduce the 'spanner' to the hypothetical 'cogs'... That is:
employment
For a moment there, you thought i worked! No! I'm not that daft. I am however, one step below that level of farcity, and have agreed, after a long period of unemployment on medical grounds ('lazy bastard syndrome'), to attend an interview, the morning after the said booze fuelled adventure.
This is slightly rubbish really, as it means that I have to make one of two possible decisions:
1) Cut short the inebriation session, and leave early, dissappointing peers (and myself, for 'faggoting' out). This also resulsts in me getting less wasted than acceptable, on the "Jones' Scale of Intoxication", which simply will not do....
2) Going ahead with the originally forecasted cocktail of alcohol and MDMA. Have a 'hell' of a time, and most probably scare the interviewer into giving me a position, due to my (seemingly) caffeine fuelled enthusiasm, or get her calling security, due to my unorthodox fowardness....
Either way, one choice must be made, and i shudder to think of the consequences of any indecisiveness on my part.....
Ciao!
(Popular ending, with a quirky foreign language excerpt, from a language that i know no more of than the copy/pasted word above)
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1 comment:
Work is overrated. Just drink yourself into a stupor, and before you know it thirty years will have passed and you'll be living in a crack-house.
It's what I did! (Lie).
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