On my approximately 50th meeting this week (no kidding), I said to my compatriots: "I don't drink enough at night for this." Both of them busted out laughing and agreed with me.
Still working on Title III, or Title 111 as Linga likes to call it.
My life sucks.
One week, one day until vacation. One week until this motherfucker is turned in and done.
Hate.My.Life.Now.
Ireland? Where are you friend? Show me your cute red-headed Irish boys. Pour me a Guinness. No, make that two. Better yet, back it with a Jameson. Yes, yes, that is beginning to sound better.
Tired.
Crabbypants.
Irritable.
Me.
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