The Douche Bag Was Punctured. in The grotesque metamorphosis of a Bi-Polar human into a Tri-polar monster.

I wasn’t supposed to work today, but my manager called me last night and asked if I could open this morning…and also if I could open tomorrow morning.

My first instinct was “Oh, I wonder if John is gone?” (In case you haven’t picked up on it already, John is the titular “douche bag”) and after a few minutes of being at work I started to hear a little bit of talk about John, and then I said something that reminded my manager of John and she was like “Dammit, don’t do that, it reminds me of John!” and then I kind of figured that John had got canned, or quit.

The story is amazing though…

Apparently he went to some party that a hostess threw for her graduation party, and he brought his baby momma…and his baby momma was supposed to stay sober and be the DD that evening, but instead she got sloppy drunk, and he got sloppy drunk, and he tried to sleep with some other girl, and then baby momma slept on the couch but pissed on the couch and then threw up everywhere…and then the two of them just took off into the night like a classy bunch.

Holy shit!

Apparently he was so embarrassed he couldn’t even show his face again.

Now I get more shifts because my boss who’s dope as hell and came to Taco Tuesday was like “Dane should get more shifts.”

My life is so awesome.