You Get What You Give
So Wednesday being September 11th was a sensitive day for everyone, and to add to the somber mood, my boss released a fit of rage on the office at 9:00 in the morning so horrific that my fun co-worker and I walked out for a few hours. Pretty unnerving when you're faced with such violence at work. It was just another point of motivation for me to go dance my cares away at Minna after work. I sent out the A.P.B. email and by 6pm I surrendered my credit card to the bartender and invited my friends to indulge at my expense. Did they need to know it was all the money I had until next payday? Hell no! This was a celebration of survival. From terrorists, from your employer, from anything difficult the universe presents to you. I get high from getting friends liquored up and sweaty on the dance floor. I'm a simple woman. So I went to Minna yesterday to retrieve my credit card, bracing myself to see the dent in my account, and instead I was presented with a gift. Seems their register malfunctioned and couldn't even begin to tally the number of drinks added to my tab. They charged me $10.00 and told me to tip big next week. I got choked up on my way home. If you ever hear me bitch about anything not going my way EVER again, slap me a good one.