So you’re there, and you’re buzzing… high on fucking life, man. Yeah, ride it out. You’re the king, that chick? She’d probably fuck you. Think about it later.
No time for self doubt. Shit… pay the keeper of toilets, for what? Sure he smiled as he squirted a load in your palm, but it just cost you an extra buck to piss, and that shit was optional…. optional, mother fucker. You absolute pussy.
He’s gone now, back to yourself. Walk back to the table and imagine everyone talking about you while you were away. Good things, of course. Because you’re the fucking man.
Also, you’re the only one who gives a shit.
Welcome to the night, people are ants. A rejection could barely bring you down to earth, this night is all about you, because you are you and that is the life you live. People are other people? Those are the lives they live? Why no, it’s all about you buddy. You’re the king. You know who you are, therefore they should too.
10 minutes and still no drink? Obviously this is what you intended, to hang about at the bar and keep the other people waiting. The barmaid fancies you, but is so stricken with nervousness that she simply cannot serve you. This what you’ll tell your friends. You planned this, that 10 minutes waiting might as well have been a date for you… you, you and the barmaid. She totally digs you. Fuck, you’re going to have one hell of a wank later and lie about the conversation you had with her, which actually just consisted of the words “Pint of red stripe please ” and “Cheers“. You are so the fucking king, can I fuck you?
She hasn’t noticed you yet, but you probably think she has. I mean, how couldn’t she? When you were 15 you fingered that chick who was totally the bomb, so this chick must be wet by the pure act of being within one mile of you. Say nothing though, that’s cool… mysterious, she’ll probably come to you anyway. Unless a family member dies immediately, which is definitely more likely from your perspective and absolutely the story you should tell people.
Like you cared anyway, you’re too high class for that. You’re already on the public bus back to your shitty rented apartment after a night of no success. Fucking cool jacket though bro, maybe a hotty on the bus will spy you out and grab your dick, that’s entirely plausible. Maybe that was the problem, the barmaid never got to see your cool jacket. Yeah, man… that was so totally the problem. Update your facebook status with something gangster. No worries if the only reply is from your mother.
You’ve got dreams man, and definitely the ability to achieve them… shit, you can even spell the word achieve without help. How the fuck aren’t you famous? You know this one guy who’s always blown away by what you have to say. That means you’re a genius, you’re something fucking special, oh… and this is your stop buddy, push the button.
You’re pushed down, that’s what it is… working an average job and renting an apartment is just not giving you enough flexibility, you wish you were like all those African kids, with all the time in the world. Sure you have a roof over your head and enough money to eat, and go out drinking… but aside from that, you’re so totally stressed, and pushed to the max. It’s an amazement that you’re even able to do your job, what with all the pressure you’re under. How the fuck do you cope?
You’re probably the most important person in that company you work for who nobody has heard of, you’ve got those “key ideas” to “expand upon” and those “documents” that need “certifying” before they go off to the “heads”. What you do is fucking crucial, and everybody knows it, man. You wear a suit because you mean business… but the other 400+ people you work with who also wear suits obviously aren’t half the man you are, I mean… that guy in accounting doesn’t even bother gelling his hair in the morning, what the fuck? What an idiot. You’ve got so much to do today it’s unreal. Your boss is the bosses bosses boss, you’re so far up it’s insane, you’re pretty much the boss. You were even allowed to nip out early that one time because you booked it 6 months in advance. That’s power bro, real fucking power. Everyone was blates jealous. You got to eat that sandwich whenever you wanted.
Don’t be thinking that everyone you notice hadn’t already noticed you. You’re both the ninja and the pirate, but in a good way, yeah? You stare at your reflection as you pass parked cars just to get a glimmer of what everybody else can see too, man those people are lucky, they get to look at you. They probably think you’re something special and will talk about you later. You’ll be referred to as “the one who stood out”, but in a good way, yeah?
You even went travelling, you left the fucking country bro. And remember that time you tried your hand at surfing? Man that story is going to come in handy soon. Hippy chick? You were being one with the earth. Surfer chick? You’re blatantly a master and can offer to teach her some pro moves just as soon as you “get back into it”. Boring chick? You can amaze her with how you once went paddling in the sea, tell her it was cold… she probably fucking loves talking about temperatures.
Heeey, there isn’t a toilet attendant in this one, you don’t even need to bother washing your hands! And don’t worry about that pint glass you just smashed all over the floor because you thought the top of a hand dryer was a smart place to put it, hell… you don’t even need to tell the staff, just go get yourself another pint and tell people that you downed the last one WHILE PISSING. Fuck that’s awesome. I love you.
You fucking drone.