8.05.05
6:08 PM
I’ve decided to go to work next Friday drunk. I wanted to do so today, but I only had time to drink three Smirnoff’s (which are the equivalent to a beer each, smart ass). Next week I won't fuck around with Smirnoff’s; I’m taking the Red Bull mit Vodka train.
Why, Paul? Why would you risk getting fired from such a great job?
Well, you, I’ll tell you.
The listed requirements for this job are as follows:
2 years of high school.

Mm hm. That’s it. Two years of high school and you are able to do what I do.
I’m just curious how many drinksy poos it would take for me NOT be able to do this job.
As soon as I hit my limit and find myself too fucked up to do this trained monkey job (which I could have done in fifth grade, maybe fourth), I will then fake stomach poisoning and go home. I will then become that drunk every day just to make life more fun. At this moment, I have a slight warmth in the back of my head, but that’s it. My clothes are on and my penis remains sheathed although my reclining, spinning and rolling chair is more fun than usual…