i can’t decide how i feel about today…
…and here we are.
i woke up financially stressed but found somewhat of a work around. within an hour of un-assing the bed i was re-assing with more than just my own ass and afterwards saw my phone blinking with a text giving me a free movie rental at redbox (that as of 9pm still hasn’t been redeemed, though) so this would all point at a good day…er go, i should be in a good mood…
…but i’m not. and i have no idea why.
i think i need a vacation…but that ain’t happening anytime soon.
i feel like i’m running myself ragged, but i know damn well i need to run myself raggeder (which surprisingly my spell check thinks is a real word)…but this entry IS being typed at the downstairs bar at trudy’s with a margarita next to the notebook and a plate of migas on the other side.
so i guess things are looking up.
now if i could only get my mood to do the same, all would be well…maybe i need to redeem that movie coupon. it’s only good today…shame they don’t have porn at redbox, but i suppose that’s what the internet is for, huh?
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from what a friend of a friend posted he saw in his hotel parking lot this morning on FB my day could be worse…
Maybe this will help…
An Irish man shows up in a pub one day and orders three pints of Guinness. He takes sips from each glass until they are empty and calls the bartender for three more. The bartender says, ‘Sure it’s up to yourself, but wouldn’t you rather I was bringing them one at a time? Then they’ll be fresh and cold.’
‘Nah…’ your man says, ‘ I’m preferrin’ that ye bring ’em three at a time. You see, me and me two brothers would meet at a pub and drink and have good times. Now one is in Australia, the other in Canada and I’m here. We agreed before we split up that we’d drink to each other’s honour this way.’
‘Well,’ says the bartender, ‘that’s a grand thing to do, all right. I’ll bring the pints as you ask.’
Well, time goes on and your man’s peculiar habit is known and accepted by all the pub regulars. One day though, he comes in and orders only two pints. A hush falls over the pub. Naturally, everyone figures something happened to one of the brothers. A group of the regulars corner the bartender and finally persuade him to find out what happened. With a heavy heart, the bartender brings the two pints and says, ‘Here’s your pints… and let me offer my sincerest condolences. What happened?’
The Irish man looks extremely puzzled for a moment, and then starts laughing.
‘Oh, no, no, no! ‘Tis nothing like that. You see, I’ve given up drinking for Lent…’
or this…
An Irish man has been at a pub all night drinking. The bartender finally says that the bar is closed. So your man stands up to leave and falls flat on his face. He figures he’ll crawl outside and get some fresh air and maybe that will sober him up.
Once outside he stands up but again falls flat on his face. He crawls home. Reaching the door he tries to stand up, and yet again, falls flat on his face. He crawls through the door and up the stairs. When he reaches his bed he summons the last of his strength and tries one final time to stand.
It’s no use. He tumbles into bed and is soon sound asleep, only to awaken the next morning to the sound of his wife standing over him shouting.
‘So… you’ve been out drinking again!’
‘How did you know?’ he asks, his head hung in shame.
‘The pub called– you left your damn wheelchair down there again!’
this should do it if the other two failed…
An Irishman, an Englishman and a Scotsman go into a pub. Each orders a pint of Guinness. Just as the bartender hands them over, three flies buzz down and land– one, two, three– in each of the pints.
The Englishman looks disgusted, pushes his pint away and demands another… the Scotsman picks out the fly, shrugs, and takes a long swallow.
The Irishman reaches in to the glass, grabs the fly between his fingers and shakes him as hard as he can, shouting ‘Spit it out, ya bloody bastard! Spit it out!’
laughing now, bitch?
bitch?!? you must have me confused with somebody else, motherfucker!