Spent 15 minutes of my lunchbreak today dry-humping a heater in a cafe bathroom after spilling a mocha all over my lap. Still looks like a wet myself. Damn do I hate fancy mugs with tiny handles.
That said, I've decided the world should drink from nothing but sippy cups from now on. This would solve a number of common problems, like wine spills on expensive rugs and gnats magically appearing on the surface of your beer. Of course, it would come with a host of problems as well. Shots would lose their badassedness. You'd likely mix up someone's orange juice with your PBR. Everything would taste like plastic. Plus, we'd all look like a bunch of 5-year-olds.
Interesting that this should happen today. I just completed the two busiest weeks of work since landing a reporting gig at this weekly. Back-to-back features, plus all the extras that come from operating a newspaper with only three news writers. I was looking forward to a little calm, a little monotony. Now all I can think about is the chocolate stain on my thigh that looks vaguely like the Virgin Mary. Or Rumpelstiltskin. Jury's still out on the likeness until it dries fully.
I can't wait to get home and play Super Mario for a few hours. My brain needs an effing break.
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