The last day of the weekend, in the evening, I am in the company of friends and alcohol. Drunk as a Chinese gastarbayer, receiving a salary for the first time. I crawl home, the computer forgot to turn off, and I write in the first pop-up window:
I am fucking fucking, fucking fucking. Tomorrow the shop is open, fucking! Ahahahahahahahaha!
Specifically, looking at the window owner’s nickname, I realized that he was our senior manager.
The next day, the woman looks at me like a shit and asks:
N: Well, the head doesn’t hurt.
I: Oh, sorry, I’m really awkward, I’m confusing the windows.
N: I wake up at 3 p.m. to check the aska, and there’s that.
My colleague enters the conversation:
Q: Yes, you are both fucking, one buoy writes to the boss, and the one in his coat of which buoy checks his ass at three in the night!