Day 5. "Dinner." Poor Decisions.

I had a late night at the office. With Mr. Brimley fresh on my mind, I was in the mood for a drink. I knew that would fuck my meal up, because then I'd be relegated to a goddamned appetizer or something, but whatevs™. Little did I know how wrong I was.

Some unruly colleagues of mine were going to a concert later in the evening and decided to stop by Snuffer's, which is great if you want a fat fuckity-fuckfuckfuck meal. I wanted no such meal, but a cold beer was sounding quite sexy.

I ended up arriving first and, since I'm an impatient bastard, ordered a draft beer in the biggest fucking glass they had. $3.99. $1.00 tip. I should have given up then. What the fuck am I going to get for $7.51!?

I was not going to indulge in a fat fuckity-fuckfuckfuck meal. NOT THIS DAY. So, in the immortal words of Bill O'Reilly, I declared:

FUCK IT, WE'LL DO IT LIVE.

And I did it live with two big ass draft beers. Here is a picture of the first beer TWICE so you can imagine how filling this fucking meal was. IT LOOKS LIKE THIS MONTH WILL BE FILLED WITH SIMILAR POOR DECISIONS.