On Saturday, I told Marc that I felt like getting drunk. He rattled off the different varieties of alcohol left in his apartment and asked what I would like to put together. I suggested pouring the remains of all bottles into a pot and setting it to simmer on the stove top with mulling spices thrown in. I called it “Hot Poison” and will ruin this story now to tell you all that dude did not go for it.
After an entire evening of applying for jobs, my eyes feel like they are going to evaporate in my skull. I could really go for some Hot Poison about now, I think.
I’ve been slacking on ukulele practice in the past couple weeks and haven’t bought a helmet for riding my bike around yet. Tonight, when I’m faced with searching for jobs, nothing is more appealing than trying to learn more chords or cycling up and down the alley without a helmet.
No one is just going to hand me a new job, though, right? We’re sure about this?
The worst thing about waking up in what is essentially the middle of the night (6:20 on a work holiday) is that I feel compelled to go buy donuts. No one should eat them. I’ll regret it immediately after. Still, I know that they’ll be warm and fresh and especially delicious if I go right now.
It’s the crown, isn’t it? Ask Toadsly where to get one- I was just issued it when I woke up that day.