I'm pretty good at it. Even when I don't mean to be. I say things with complete sincerity and the corner of your eyes start to turn up even before your mouth. It almost irritates me because it makes me laugh and then I'm not sure if you know I'm serious or not.
You know I am.
So in an effort to make you laugh on a night when you are not my Friday night date (thanks a lot for that btw Bitch, if I get sold into white slavery for going out with almost strangers, remember, my friends name is Tasha, you know where she works.) I will tell you a little tale to hold you over until I can unintentionally make you laugh again by telling you about my future travels, house and the amount of pedicures I require in a month. No offense (just a little) but forking over some of those sweat earned dollars for a pedicure never killed anyone. Just sayin'. You know who loves you right? NO! Not fuckin Schaffer. He might say it, but he can't txt like me. If he can. Take him. Snatch him up. Never let him go.
Bob's a fuckin' idiot.
So listen, you got the short version earlier. Stupid Mac is a raging alcoholic. I'm not even kidding. I was always wondering why he couldn't remember things I had told him. Dumb ass me. I have even said on occasion, "Do you not listen to me?" Now I realize he is a fucking drunk. He is a cheap, wasted, mofo. So today he says, "I felt awful today. Barely got any work done." Trying to be nice, I asked, "Why, are you sick?" To which he replied, "No, I had to many drinks last night. I am paying for it today." In my head I thought, "Self, I guess cause it was Thursday night he might have been partying but also self, isn't it his week with the kids?" Hmmm... So I said, "Who did you go out with?" Stupid Sarah. Remember, don't ask the question if you don't want to hear the answer. My bad. "I didn't go anywhere, I drank here by myself. I have been trying to stop that and only drink with other people." Buh bye. Not only are you the richest cheap mother fucker I have ever known but now you're an alcoholic too? I would take my (estranged) husbands pot smoking ANY DAY OF THE WEEK over that.
So in the famous words of you, Hunter "Go get your purse Bitch, grab your perfume, your pink boa and your pink slip and go down to HR. You Are Out."
Oh Mother say a prayer for me, Jesse's (SS) back in town, it won't be easy.