Obviously at 11:30 in the morning I am finally eating my breakfast (which, for the record, is a terribly healthy bag of famous amos chocolate chip cookies). The lateness of this typical early-morning routine stems from the fact that I have the dumbest job possibly ever (although Sean and I have spent the morning arguing about whose job is worse, and while I will conceed and call it a tie, no WAY is anyone's job more obnoxious than mine). While I am finishing up my last cookie, G-Sun walks in and hands me a piece of paper. When I take it, he picks up the (empty) bag of cookies and looks into it. Upon realizing there are no more cookies in the bag, he says "what!" and throws it back down on the table. I point to the bowl of candy on the bookshelf in front of my desk, and he walks over to it, takes a piece of chocolate, says "hot damn!" and walks out of the room.
I'm sorry, Sean, but I think I win this round of ri-goddamn-diculous.
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