No money, never mind, sponge off friends for a bit. They don’t mind very much, especially as you provide such scintillating company as I do. And I do.
Me and the boys went to our local for the first time in yonks and had our usual beer, hot dogs and chips. (ok, wedges). Then we went to Pot Black underneath the Hard Rock Cafe and played several games of pool, damaging the ceiling with the cue at one point.
Other than that, nothing else happened apart from work. And I don’t like to talk about work. Talk about work and people ask where you work, and you don’t really wanna tell, ‘cos you don’t want your work to be related to your funky little neuroses you put up on your blog. Talking about work also bores some people to tears, no matter how sordid the affair you’re having with your boss may be. It is a workplace affair and only shows how little you really get out.
It’s only ever OK for me to talk about work if I’ve just gotten a new job, or if I’ve just been sacked, or if my business is making a million bucks a day and I don’t have to give a flying fish about people making the connection between my work and my funky little neuroses. It’s also alright I guess if I worked in a hospital and it was the middle of a SARS outbreak or somesuch and I was quarantined with my laptop and internet connection. But otherwise, no.
Yes, my work day wasn’t so good, and there wasn’t much I could do about it. All I can say is that my business partners have a sore shoulder, a screwy leg, a skin infection; and I am nursing a bung knee. It is quite a severe sick list.
But at least there were friends with enough money to buy me a beer, a hotdog, some chips and a few games of pool.
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