Bad News: Our boss locked the keys inside the building.
Good News: We didn’t have to wait around for a locksmith.
Bad News: My boss finds it very concerning that I know how to pick locks, and tried to unlock my Tragic Backstory™. I was too embarrassed to admit that the reason I learned was because, at thirteen, I figured that was the kind of skill that would impress cute girls.
Good News: A cute girl saw me do it.
Bad News: It was Maggie, and since she’s already seen me fall out of several trees, cry because I saw a fawn that was just too damn small, and knows I can ride a unicycle, she’ll never think I’m cool no matter what I do. It’s too late. She knows.
There are million dollar blockbuster movies that were less entertaining than the rollercoaster this post just took me on.
do you ever like… hear somebody make a joke about how sad they are and everyone else is laughing but you’re sitting there like: i gotta help this guy. holy shit are you okay bud. nice joke but for real i’m here when you need me we can talk about anything no judgement
