You’re my favourite daydream i’m your famous nightmare

A Beer Story is when shit goes down at the beer store and without further ado, here is MY BEER STORY.

I made us do suicide hangover errands, one being the magical chore of recycling your booze bottle collection. We have lots of parties here and people leave their empties. We had enough for a Sapporo 6 pack awwright! I hangover-raged on an employee who then was passive aggressively sluggish and a hobo lush (this is so kerouac) behind us in line knew him by name, called it out to him while he dragged his fat lazy ass on by, to continue the chain of passive aggression like HA HA these hipster yuppies have to wait longer at the tin can boozehall rumpus room what is the Brock beer store (can we return empties in libville or not?) so I whipped my head around and scowled at THAT hobo my disdain by way of huge paris hilton glasses and ice freeze out stare which wiped the smile from her face. I felt slightly bad but not really. Then I stared at her in the two-way mirror reflection on the back of the door like a bully and she turned to stone. Before slow McFuckface went by he goes YEAH SHE’LL BE RIGHT THERE snapping at me when I spoke for the people EXCUSE ME IS SOMEBODY GOING TO HELP US Teacher braced himself for impact. I said, “She was FIVE MINUTES AGO!” She came out, said hi and seriously invented nothing to do out back to just leave us standing there for five whole minutes for no f-ing reason at all, HELLO!? I only gave that boozy behind us a face to let her know that I knew she was joshing me, I have nothing but contempt for the passive aggressive, always have. You mess with my mellow and I will make you regret it. Am I insane with pent-up emotions passionate as all F- you betcha, isn’t this blog great!

OMG HI! Happy strung out Sunday!