Someone has a fake frog at their graveside and I really thought you guys ought to know about it. (Featuring commentary by my coworker.)
status : so fuckin done tonight.
”You’d better invite me over then, hadn’t you?”
“Consider yourself officially always welcome, starting now. C’mon then.”
”I deserve the fuckin’ world, all day every day. And you fuckin’ know it.”
“If only there was someone to get it for you. C’mon. Don’t want the strippers to get cold or the beer to get warm, yeah?”
”I don’t want to get you in trouble or anything. But god, a drink sounds good right now. Shall we say screw maturity for a bit and at least grab a beer, even if we’re not getting shitfaced?”
“What is this, amateur hour? Nah, mate. I keep bourbon under my bed.”
"Hnng— Jim. Not right now.”
"You’re—— so fuckin’ lucky I can’t slap you right now."
"I’m in a much better position for slapping, mate. You want one? Just a tiny one, I mean.”
”Are you allowed to? ‘cause I sure as fuck ain’t drinking alone.”
“Technically, no. Hasn’t stopped me once.”