Monday, all right!

I hate it when people are so polite that they don’t mention that you’ve got something in your face. I mean, what’s so god damned polite about it, making me go around the entire building with something from lunch stuck to my face? It’s insubordinate inpoliteness in excellence exceedingly, without a doubt. Damn.
And you let yourself ponder about that girl was smiling so cute at you just because you were your regular charming you. Oh no. It was all because you had something in your face. Cute.

Thank heavens for mirrors in elevators.

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