This is the time of year when, Freaky Friday style, Jamie and I switch bodies. Suddenly, I'm the sullen introvert and he's the attention-whore. It has a lot to do with my fucked-up family and his ability to put away booze like a beer camel. You'd never guess it to look at Jamie, but when that motherfucker hits the dance floor, it is on.
Jamie gets frustrated with me because I usually want to leave early, but by ten I'm the only sober person in a room filled with drunken, sex-starved ad people which is a hell of a lot less interesting than it okay, that part's pretty entertaining. Mostly because the person who licks your face is never the one you'd want to. No means no, Troy.
Send your drunken feedback to email@example.com.
The funny part is that Graham has no idea. He's never been drunk. Ever.
Since he has little to no inhibitions on a good day, he thinks that if he were to have a few, he'd instantly lose control and become the blathering idiot that tells the boss to suck his cock then honks the HR lady's breast just before he pukes then falls on a cactus. I've tried to convince him that drinking is cool and that all the popular copywriters are drunks, but he is nothing if not stubborn.
Anecdotal retort #1: I'm at an award show, standing in a circle of colleagues when a woman approaches, glass in hand. The top button of my shirt is open and, noting that I don't have any chest hair, she asks if I shave. I respond that I'm just not a hairy guy. Not even on your belly ? she cries, reaching inside my shirt and running her hand through my short and curlies. You do ! You do have hair on your belly! I do.
Anecdotal retort #2: Do I really need a second?
I'm not judging. It's all I can do not to honk the HR Director's breast completely sober it's a very nice breast and she's got another one just like it. But the last thing I need is social lubricant. I'm already interesting. And Hemmingway was a miserable fuck.
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