You have ONE birthday. There's no way your mother would've pushed you through her vagina twice.

I don't even know what that means, but I thought it was funny so I went with it.

I just had a clandestine 'cocktail' lunch with a fellow coworker who is also leaving this God foresaken place next week. No one in the office knows we're each leaving (except for us). We went to an out-of-the-way bar/restaurant. 90 minutes and a little too much alcohol (and not enough food) later, we pour ourselves back into the office. Now I've got two choices: Send out a proposal for a $600,000 account, or chill and write a blog. The fact that you're reading this means I have chosen....wisely.

I make my mom proud.

I'm chugging water like it's my job. Considering everything I haven't been doing in the office lately, I guess you could say that's a fairly accurate remark.

I also just realized I smell like I've been manning the fryer at the Grease Shack Diner for the past 12 hours. I smell like ass. No, I smell worse than ass. I smell like deep-fried ass. I've got enough Long Island Iced Tea in me (with an extra shot of tequila for good measure) to not really care. For all you people in AA right now: You don't know what you're missing! Actually, wait. You do. Sorry.

A coworker just asked me a question. I asked for "one minute" so I could finish reading an article about Chris Brown being charged with two felonies.

I checked in with my lunch buddy. She's over there heckling the people in her department. She's also thinking she can cover up her grease/alcohol stank with a dirty, half-unwrapped cough drop that she found in the bottom of her purse.

I'm just laying low at my desk. I'm wearing high-heels; it's best if I don't walk around too much. I normally would sneak out early; not today. This moment is not the time to take chances.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not retardedly drunk. I'm pleasantly buzzed. I want to set the record straight on that.

Needless to say, lunch was a success. Our 45 year old hippie bartender was a cool chick, albeit a little burned out. But I had no complaints, even when I didn't get my side of mayo. Why is it so impossible to get a side of mayo with anything? Food industry savages. Bunch of communists. I digress.

So yeah, if you ever want a free shot of tequila, just hit Dylan's in Chesterbrook at lunch time. Make sure Fantasia is the bartender (not her exact name, but I know it's close). You'll be set. Bonus points if you can get her to spill about how she got mugged and beat up in D.C.

My next blog will probably be a personal review of the new Watchmen movie. Stay tuned.

My next blog will also be a little more...coherent. Thanks for tuning in.