Just Pretend It Matters A Lot.

I pulled a LiLo last night. I sliced part of my finger clean off while I was making a boca burger because reasons. Part of it is a lifestyle thing, the reason shit like this happens to me. 

People like me really have nothing to do after supper so supper is usually the last thing I do. Then bed in no uncertain order, and last night was no exception. The problem arises when I have to sit through a vice-presidential debate, a texting war with my brother and several beers. So it isn’t until I am completely pissed that I decide to throw sharp knives and open flames into the mix. I make poor choices and that is OK.

But if it only ended there, but it doesn’t, if only the victims were limited to my extremities it might not even merit mentioning, but it seems that after I decided to hack myself to pieces I then up and botched the bandaging, collapsed in my bed, and proceeded to bleed profusely all over vintage Benetton sheets. The one’s with the flags. When I got them they were in the original packaging, and that is where they should have stayed if only that rogue hadn’t just, well, that’s not for here, but in any case, here I am left in the unenviable position of having to text my mother with these unsettling words: 

‘How can I get blood out of white sheets?’

And if there wasn’t already enough evidence that Jesus Fucking Christ himself were mocking me I get to work and it looks like they sacked my office crush. The one I never got up the nerve to really have a conversation with. He had really impressive man-boobs and spent most of his working moments on ESPN.com, but that is really hardly a reason to sack someone with man-boobs like that.  They did block all of the sports sites from the office internets turning the whole place into somewhere not unlike North Korea so that may have been a harbinger, but I spend half the day on Page Six and they haven’t taken that down.

I’m hoping they just moved him to another part of the office because I was making him feel uncomfortable with my lusty stares. That must be it. It’s impossible to get fired in this business and it’s unlikely I’d have the misfortune of losing my office crush as well as my primary digit on the same night.