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Once upon a time I was excited to have a job and my own bills. I also had a crush on a boy in school and thought alcohol was gross.
Friday. The day of the week where its *almost* acceptable to bring whiskey to work.
For the first time since I became a single mom, all of my bills are current and credit card paid down. Fuck. Yes. I'm proud.
Hey you. Your asshole is showing. No seriously dude, pull up your pants.
#crohns crohns go away, come again another... second thought. Fukk off and stay the hell away, dirty skank.
Just remember that when you're fretting about buying "enough" presents for your kids, 20 sets of parents are now planning funerals. :(
Shhhit. This day is taking forever. Baileys in my coffee sounds like a wonderful idea. Make things more fun and solve this pesky job thing.
I hate Monday. Monday is the red-headed-step-child if said step child sucked a lot of dick and drank all my coffee.
Friday. Finally. I foresee a fire this weekend and beer.
Want a beer?
Nope. My beer.
Oh look. Time to get up and deal with the bullshit again. All for a paycheck. Bah.
Let's just say this people. The nicer you are to customer service the more we will go out of our way for you? And vice versa.
Nothing in the professional world is more unprofessional than a "ring-back tone". Especially if it's Lil Wayne.
I just poured coffee in my coffee maker, to make coffee, if that's any indication of how my morning is going.
Obviously the answer is coffee. To everything. Except when the answer is whiskey. Whiskey beats coffee.
I've decided being an adult is overrated. I'm going back to being 16...which means drunk as fuck or asleep.
Remember everyone, jokes and cracks aside, love the ones you have, because you might not have them for as long as you think.
hey you. go fuck yourself. twice. no crying afterwards either.
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