I can’t believe it…And you didn’t want to toot your own horn.
Wow.
I did not realize things could quite go from bad to worse on a whim like this.
So, I’m preppin’ my bidness for work this morning and am looking for my passport since I’ll need to go to the bank today, and it is my sole, I repeat, sole source of official, valid, fo’ real y’all identification. Piz-eriod.
And while my room isn’t in the best shape organization-wise, it’s not the depraved 9/11 site my former bedroom evinced. But it wasn’t on the:
*makeshift hamper/night table
*old school “phone desk”
*ground
…which are its usual haunts, so I began to panic and ripped my room apart on a reconnaissance mission to recover it. And all to no fucking avail.
No passport = no clubbing for yet anOTHER weekend. Not to mention I’ll have to perform oral sex on the bank teller and his/her immediate supervisor for authorized approval just to get them to deposit my pay check without an ID.
In better news, I found a rebel tab of Vivarin at the bottom of my work desk drawer this morning, and popped that puppy like a pilla E. Whoo, wigga!
