Dammit!
I have the only fright wig, clutched in grasp like a netted strand of pearls!
Oh…this isn’t the Lounge.
Well, carry on then. Nothing to see here. Show’s over, people!
Gripe?
My place of business is closed tomorrow, and, TBH, I’d much rather have worked on the Fourth.
Antigripe? The bartender liked me today, because I was following Wimbledon on the TV after work today.
I could be a real boy someday!
Gripe?
Oh, no…probably not.
< insert the maximum of laughter smilies one possibly can >.
But I did shoot really crappy pool trying to set up challenging shots after work today. That was bad.
But what was good? The bartender gave me the keys to the coin-up Valley tables and let me open them up. That was good.
But what was bad? Where are there fright wig Booth’s in the world?
I call it an even wash.
It is true, though, I’ll miss seeing (some? a handful?) of my coworkers tomorrow. Sophie, especially, who is starting to irritate me a bit because she always shows up about fifteen minutes late, even though her hair looks like it smells good and we get along fine.
But I enjoy having some time to sweat hard and joke around, within reason, with my compatriots at work, and I’m certainly not going to leave my place for the express purpose of doing some nonsense.