Work Work Work

I have returned!
The past two months have by no means been a sabbatical from the blogosphere, but rather a time of painstaking research and perfection of my other craft... the one that pays the bills. That having been said... lets get on with the awesome.
Work, the scourge of mankind; the draining, exasperating force that bends even the stoutest back. The reaper of youth, thief of time and equalizer of age, the bastard abuser of man. The Irish are prone to delusions of grandeur, fleeting moments of brilliant prose and fanatical loyalty to both family and employer... I am no exception. Many a great Irishman has dashed himself upon the rocks of this unrequited "loyalty" with the hopes of heavenly reward for performing their Catholic duty...  I am no Catholic.
Beer (albeit very good beer, in fact a bottle of Pere Jacques 2010 is being consumed as we speak) has been the catalyst of my written dementia and tonight is no different, so lets get back to kicking ass and banging sluts!
Much better... the work demon has been exercised, Osama Bin Laden has been drowned and some other shit also happened, but I missed all of it, because I was at work. How many hours are in a work week? Eighty or so, right? Seriously all of this working has lined my wallet with green paper and plastic cards, but at what cost? My eternal soul... no, because I traded that for a Snickers bar when I was Seven (stupid Cam Knoble that was when Snickers Bars were full sized... idiot.). Peace of mind... wrong, I learned a long time ago that there ain't no  rest for the wicked so I ain't felt guilt in years. It all boils down to two things, beer and sleep; I have been missing out on sleep and pounding awesome fucking beers in my man chair!! That being said the time has arrived to finish off this bottle of wonder elixir and join the rest of you in the slumber of decadence.
Good Night.