God I'm so fucking exhausted. And it's not because I finally reconciled with the gym and ran the treadmill for two hours nor was it because I did some incredible manly thing like lifting the refrigerator and moving it into another part of the kitchen. I am exhausted because I am fucking drunk. On a weeknight. And it is just awesome.
One of my lady friends texted me late this afternoon and invited me to her 'I quit my job to start my own business yay for me!' party and let's just say that given that I have been very stressed lately [and also because I am an alcoholic who's way beyond help], I capitalized on the offer and became responsible for at least a third of the tab (which is easily over 3,000 bucks) thanks to my beer and barchow orders.
Not that I haven't done this before. In fact, I'm probably the asian weeknight drinking champion or some shit like that. Thing is, most of the jobs I've had recently didn't require me to time in using that oppressive capitalist machine people refer to as a bundy clock. So, I can pretty much get bombed as much as I want to, come in late the morning after and just make up for the hours I was late for within the week.
Such is not the case with my current job. In here, I have to come in at exactly seven in the morning and for someone like me who made out with the security guard on my way out of the bar and nearly drowned in the Pasig river on my way home, this is not too awesome.
So if any of you people in the office read my blog and you see some hungover, sweating fat guy who reeks badly of alcohol walk in the office tomorrow without any pants on, that is me. Say hello.
Speaking of work, my new co-workers are really nice. They're very competent at what they do and have been very kind and understanding to me whenever I totally fuck up a task or something. And no, I'm not just saying this because I'm the new guy who doesn't have any friends and whose recollection of the closest thing he had to friendly banter in the two days he's been working in the company is limited to this:
Me: [coyly asking some employee about random shit. Trying to make friends] Is this the guys restroom?
Employee1: [Polite smile] Yes it is.
Me: [Trying to sneak in a little humor into the conversation] Why is it so close to the pantry then? What if I somebody takes a dump, and not just one of those run of the mill dumps too but those squishy Hershey squirt type stinkers? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Four people coincidentally having lunch in the pantry: [leaving, shaking their heads]
Me: Nnnnnnnrrrn….
Employee1: There's something terribly wrong with you. [walks away]
Me: [Crying alone in my shame and self-disgust]
So yeah you know, ask me to eat lunch with you? Anyone? Please? You don't know how it feels not to eat anything for 9 straight hours and live solely off soda, chewing gum and cigarettes, pretending to work during lunch hour while avoiding the pity looks of other employees who're having such grand times eating with their colleagues.
Also I'm going to be totally hungover tomorrow. And soon after, fired by my boss for puking all over my cubicle.
Asshole.
[Me. Not my boss. My boss is just awesome. Awesome great. If he's reading this]
Mike "Fucking" Villar
"a Manila-based blogger made famous by his Atrocities of Friendster series, a regular feature he publishes on his blog where he mercilessly criticizes and mocks pictures of ugly people he stumbles upon on popular social networking site, Friendster. Although a lot of people are offended by what he writes, long-time readers of his blog regard him as a brilliant satire writer."
-Taken from my WikiBios page
