The Boss of Me

Searching my archives. My REAL archives. That phrase comes up so much you would swear it was my mantra.

That sort of thinking though. That's what got me here. For better and worse.



If you are going to hit on the boss' lady, you have to be pretty fuckin bold about it. You can't be all, skulking around and discussing it in secret, you know? Nothing good ever ever ever starts that way.

You have to be frank. Ha. No pun intended. You really have to be Tony, coming in talking about tigers and forever, just like that. No bullshit, dude.

And then you just cross your fingers and hope it doesn't end in a hail of bullets.

*********

Last night I got drunk at a company party and came home ready to spill my guts. Oh! The stuff I posted!

All full of myself because I have a nice outfit on and I've been having my ego stroked for 2 hours, just about fucking anything will come out of my mouth.

But I guess I'm the boss of me. So that's pretty much business as usual.

*********

Note: Somewhere out there, a door just slammed. One last nail in the coffin, which I guess I needed? I looked for it, at the very least.

Note: Bunny is still cool as a cucumber. Watch.

*********

And anyway: fuck waiting for it to show up on your doorstep. It won't.



Once you have her attention, you better pull out the biggest guns you got, boo.