Working at a bar is fun, not always, and these 80+ hour work weeks are beating the shit out of me, but whatever. My co-workers and I keep the mood light by mercilessly making fun of one another. Since I'm the token gay, most of the barbs lobbed at me are of course gay related. It's good natured fun. Plus I think I'm decent at shoveling shit right back at them.
Anyways, a few days ago someone threw out a dozen trashy paperback romance novels. The one that was chosen for me is..."Never Love a Lawman".
Escape is not an option, apparently. Why anyone would want to escape from that stud is beyond me. But believe it or not, on slow days, I um...actually have been reading it. Or rather, I've been performing it, which seems to provide endless amusement to my stressed out friends/co-workers. And seriously, I'm so wiped out from this World Cup shit I don't think my brain is capable of reading anything with substance.
This cracked me up when I got to work today. See the picture below? To the left of the gold cat lies the most recent addition to my literary collection. I think it's fitting that it enjoys such a prominent slice of precious back of the bar real estate.
"Now he wondered, would this be the night she would surrender to the inevitable". How juicy! Shit, now that I think about it, maybe I could write one of these things. How hard can it be?
