this morning #1652.
this morning, i woke up to find a string of ALL-CAPS texts waiting for me on my phone. that & a few missed calls. all from joan from the office. HEY THERE, YUKON CORNELIUS. IT’S YOUR TURN TO SING. WHERE YOU AT? WHERE’D YOU GO? I’M TAKING YOUR SPOT, SUCKER. HEY. YOU OK? THEY SAID THEY SAW YOU LEAVE. DID YOU? WE’RE ABOUT TO PAY & TAKE OFF. FINE. WHATEVS. WE’RE OUT OF HERE. DAMN, MAN. CAN’T BELIEVE YOU BAILED ON THE BILL. NICE IRISH GOODBYE. HOPE YOU’RE NOT HURT. YOU OWE ME $75. I’LL SEE YOU AT WORK ON MONDAY. PAY ME BACK THEN. right. post-party karaoke. other than the cab ride, i have zero memory of that part of the evening. i guess i should let joan know that i’m not laying in a ditch somewhere bleeding.