I'm in New York for New Years festivities. The day I get here, some "friends" chew me out and call me all sorts of names. I cut them loose. No more dead weight there.
Then I go out with some chick I met at a party a few weeks ago who happened to be in the city same time as me, and she's good-lookin and all, just broke up with her bf, so I think I might stand a chance. Nope. I do my best to "be myself" and she ends up sucking face with some Norweigian guy named Johann right there at the bar. If it weren't for the two Smirnoffs, three shots of vodka, and shot of Rumplemintz, I'd have probably felt pretty lousy at the time. Instead, I just cut my losses and left for the evening, stumbling confidently back to the subway.
I get off the train to transfer to the last train I need to get home, and they're jackhammering up the line. So, no train? It ended up coming in later on the same platform as the one I'd just gotten off of, but there are few things worse on this Earth when you're sobering up than two jackhammers going full blast in the sonic coffin that is a subway tunnel.
I get home, sobered up enough, and dig into my work for the evening. Maybe I shoulda taken the night off. Instead of the usual 2 or 3 orders to screen, there are 90. So, I guess everybody else took the day off, and now our idiot outsouced buddies in India are going to make my night hell. Hard NOT to have a 100% success rate when you essentially don't do your job and escalate everything to me.
Just shoot me now.