Note to self – Get a life, so you have stories to tell at Happy Hour

I like stories. I like collecting them and holding them in my memory so that they can come out on a rainy day. This has annoyed many of an ex-boyfriend who felt I held onto stories just to torture them later. Yeah… sometimes that was true.

Now I’m at a shortage of good tales. My stories lately consist of “I was at work until 11pm rewriting brochure text” or “Get what my boss did now.” None of these stories are very tell worthy; in fact I’ve gotten scolded by two friends and my dad regarding my overworking habit of late. And I have been over working. When you stay until 8 or 9 o’clock in the evening and then work when you get home for a few more hours there is defiantly something wrong with your life and work balance.

So herein lies my problem. On Friday the 13th I’m having happy hour with Michelle and she requested non-work stories so I have got to go out into that big scary world and get me some stories to tell. I could start tonight and head to Dive Bar night, that crew contains a few douches and I’m sure they’ll do something to live up to their douche status, but I just bought an awesome red that I want to start drinking. God, why can’t cool stuff just happen in my living room?

CW