Quote:
Originally posted by Did you just call me Coltrane?
I would literally eat horsehit if it meant I didn't have to work anymore. Lots of it. Big fucking road apples.
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I think about this when the old lady's got me cleaning the cat litter. "Would I eat the whole litter box? Could I do that?" The answer is, if it would keep me in exactly my current lifestyle without ever having to work again, yes. I would get out the Grey Poupon, bbq sauce, Hersey's Syrup, whatever... and be shovelling those turds and piss biscuits in my face like a fucking hot dog eating championship.
I once heard "partner" described as winning a pie eating contest where the prize was more pie. People get backed into it or shoot for it because they don't have anything else to gun for in life, or they can't do anything else. Its the one of those "Well, if I must do a shitty job, I might as well do one that pays" gigs.
The sort of person who bucks to be partner, lives to be partner and loves the endless hours and annoyance of it is the black letter definition of a tool.
