O dear. What has become of me. I sit here about to go to bed and wandering why?? Why do I have to go to work in the morning? Why do I hate work? Why do all my female bosses bust my balls and my male bosses think I'm great? Why o why?
I feel kinda down and have een told I need a hug. Well I burnt all those hugging bridges a long time ago and I might regret it if the thought of too much hugging didnt want to make me hurl.
I have been told I need some love. Well I burnt those bridges a little while ago and I seeem to regret it by the day.
I have been told I need to get drunk. Well I haven't burnt those bridges and tomorrow might be the ideal time to drown my sorrows and forget about the terrible week gone by.
O der didn't the week start with sooo much promise. O dear it ends with a stare down an empty whisky bottle.
DISCLAIMER: This is not a freaking poem or some crap like that. Just a pissed guy at the end of the working week.
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