SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN / I was that coworker

Of course I'm sitting here having woken up after only 4 hours of sleep and questioning whether or not I was over the top. I didn't make out with anyone. But I did show off some cleave. At one point I stood on top of a chair and yelled, "I'm Justin Noble's coworkahhhh-rrrrrrrr!". I think I also admitted my brief sortie with cutting, being gay and thoughts of suicide to people I've never met before as an attempt to break the ice. I don't know. It was a weird bar. Too bright and too many chairs. The music wasn't loud enough, nobody was feeling it and everyone was a funny elitist.

The night started out with me running late to Justin's improv show at the pit. By the time I got there, door dude wouldn't let me in, saying it was a full house. Fine - so I planned on just waiting in the lobby with my beerincoffeecup like the nice patient patron that I am. Justin was able to get me in for his act. His comedy face reminds me of Michael Cera. On to the bar across the street, I welcomed a prearranged white russian to be shared with my other coworker, Joey. Then I hid in the bathroom with a vodka soda and sent one text. Called Shaun. Came back inside and had my first ever long island iced tea. Alone in the subway -or so I thought, the security guard yelled at me for smoking - I threw up some lame lipstick tags.



I was that coworker - and here my song on repeat:
Sunday Morning Coming Down - Kris Kristofferson