So tonight I have a bartending gig. I am thrilled to be able to get back behind the bar and all, but dammit, I don't want to be there today.
No, today I am sick, and all I really want to do is lay in bed, drinking orange juice and feeling sorry for myself.
Instead, I will be going out to bucktown to bartend for some rich bitch's party. All I can really say is that I hope she won't get too pissed off when I'm poppin dayquil, and blowing my nose in her fancy cocktail napkins. I'll just be drinking her orange juice tonight... and she'll have to get over it. Why? Because I'm the bartender, and I say so.
She's lucky to have me at all, because if it were up to me, I'd be camping out on my bed with a box of puffs and some vapo-rub.
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