I had a dream last night I was dying of terminal cancer and the only people around were people I hate from work. It was enjoyable, to say the least. When I looked up the meaning in my dream dictionary I was shocked and appalled to learn that to dream you have cancer denotes hopelessness and self-pity and you feel you are wasting your life away. Ha, ha! You mean to tell me I feel hopeless and self-pitying about my job and that I’m wasting my life away?! That couldn’t be more off!
T Saur is up to usual behavior which makes me want to stick my head in an oven. He was on the phone earlier doing his usual loud nonsensical scream-talking to someone who clearly spoke English as a second language. To accommodate the language barrier T would throw in some broken Spanglish, you know-for street cred. He said things like, “¿Cómo estás? are you today?”, “Si Señor. That document is muy important”, and finally, “Muchos gracias and thank you for the information”. Jesus. Christ. Unrelated: today he smells like moss, pennies and band-aids. The moss is a new addition to his aroma. It adds a nice, earthy touch to T’s “flavor bouquet”.
Guys with accents have it made. You can be moderately to not very attractive and pull so much leg it is amazing. Last night I was at happy hour (shocking) and saw a three or fours guys (not cute) surrounded by a group of ladies (semi to quite cute). At first I was confused until I realized that they were British. Ladies + Booze + Guys with Accents = 100% chance of getting laid regardless the state of your teeth.