What's that smell?
Bit of a tough day today. Sort of a work-related coitus interruptus. Which is even less pleasant than it sounds.
So I'm talking at lunch about how I think I'll go to Vegas for the weekend. The WSOP is going on, it's not that expensive because it's hot as blazes and it's Vegas for crisskaes. But Pete goes me one better and suggests that the only way to cure my existential blue-balls is to truly hit bottom.
His recommendation: Go to Vegas with the intention of losing everything so that "you have to take a bus back but only have enough fare to make it as far as Gilroy. And then you need to call Sutter and ask him to come pick up your broke, garlic-reeking ass."
Sutter - please reserve the ZipCar now.
4 comments:
I feel bad for the man begging Mr. Sutter to come pick him up. Dude doesn't have a license, yo!
making an adventure out of an adventure... love it. leave it up to our male species to think up something this self loathing and alienating.
make sur eyou leave your razor and deodorant AND clean gitch at home so you can thoroughly enjoy your grossness.
hail the stinky man!
m.
Uh, yes. I did leave my clean gitch at home but that's because I ended up not going to Vegas this weekend.
AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA!!
Wonderful post :)
Maybe you'll go in Vegas NEXT week-end? And with the garlic you should also take some onions and chillies with you: with such a combination you'll be remembered for a long, long time.
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