The Best Way To Treat Depression Is A Depressant!

WARNING: The return of drunken posting!

Still no word from the Braves. I am, however, good and drunk right now.

I feel this is a good plan for my future should this job fall through, which theoretically I’ll know by tomorrow.

They said they’d tell me by the 12th, and tomorrow (or really today) is the twelfth, so theoretically I’ll hear. I’m calling if I haven’t heard by 1pm, because I really can’t take the suspense anymore.

It’s driven me to clean, and now that everything’s pretty much clean, it’s driven me to drink. Because drinking, in addition to providing unnecessary calories, at least gets me good and fucked up, and doesn’t just provide said calories, unlike just eating my cares away.

I want this job so badly, I just don’t know what to do if I don’t get it. And because I feel like that, I’m more certain than ever I didn’t get it.

Hopefully, I’ll actually know tomorrow. However, they could just say, “Oh, we haven’t made our decision yet, we’ll let you know next week.” My hair will start coming out if that happens. I’m really about to lose my mind.

One decision I have made for certain: I’m quitting my current job no matter what tomorrow. Whether it’s effective immediately or in two weeks is up to the Braves, but I’m quitting no matter what. I’m sick of getting bitched at by two bosses.

It’s like the left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing, except when they’re both bitchslapping me to avoid taking blame for things that are their fault.

I don’t care if I have to work as a barback (busperson, essentially), I’m sick of getting no money and no respect. Preferably, you get both, but you need at least one to put up with a job, and currently I’m getting neither. So fuck this bullshit.

But at least right now, everything is much funnier than it normally is. Wheeeeeeeeeeee!

Oh, I am going to pay for this tomorrow morning…

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