Stop Offering Me Bandaids
Sitting down in the lounge in Changi Airport, I nurse yet another coffee, my 3rd one thus far and it’s only 6.25am. Barely 3 hours ago, I was at home frantically filling in my expense claim forms. And 3 hours before that, I was in Kuching, Malaysia - which is another tale I will tell you as soon as I get around to writing it.
I have a routine. Routines must be obeyed, because men are creatures of habit. Upon arrival at any airport, I must go to the lounge and gorge on something, anything. Sometimes it is beer. Today it’s coffee. Yet another day, it may be ice-cream. Following which, I proceed to the little boy’s room to read the newspaper and move my bowels. And after that, I am ready to board my plane.
Today, I find the lack of sleep has disrupted mine routine. I kept drifting in and out of Z-Land despite the prodigious amount of caffeine I am consuming. In fact, I am very close to the realm of “An Imaginary Conversation Between Me And An Imagined Imaginary Cup Of Coffee”.
The cure for this, and all the world’s ills, both real and imagined; might just be a blowjob.
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