(no subject)
I'm typing this from Alyssa's apartment where I drink glass after glass of wine in a quasi celebration to my ability to get fired from that hellhole that has drug me down for the last three years. I was milking them for all they were worth these last few weeks, coming in whenever i wanted, leaving as I felt neccessary. Oh well, boo-fucking-hoo, I guess I no longer have to check my "soul" at the door every time I walk into that florescent lit quagmire of consumerism. Haha, and right before the holiday season. Man that rocks. Of course a small part of me is worried about finding a new job, but that shouldn't be difficult considering my employment record. I shook each of the manager's hands after they fired me, telling them best of luck in the future. I think they were supposed to tell me that, but I really felt like the winner in this one. When i walked into the office, knowing exactly what was about to happen, I even asked if they called me in for a promotion. James, you magnificent bastard. Goodbye Sam Walton, goodbye mundane.