Pssst. Hey you. Yeah, the person reading this. Sup? Looks like you’re not getting any work done at the moment. I feel that. What are we, a week and a half in December? Hmmmm. Time to shut this year down. We’ll pick it up in 2020. No reason to put in any actual effort right now.
Truth be told, I’m half-assing this post myself. I’m cooking up a beef stew, I’m a cocktail deep and I might’ve had a joint already. Not the chump stuff, either — some live resin in that bad boy. The rest of the week is basically just holiday parties and gift shopping, and I’m not gonna need my brain for that. Lasting this long into the month before you throw in the towel is clearing a lofty bar, as far as I’m concerned. Look, if my boss asks where I am, please say I went out for coffee.
anyone else gonna try and coast till the new year? i just don’t see myself putting in 23 more days of effort here
— Miles Klee (@MilesKlee) December 9, 2019
Jesus, only 159 words in this stupid piece. Let’s see if we can stretch it a bit. Okay, well, you know how you do very little — as in absolutely nothing — for the first morning hour you’re in the office? But you somehow manage to appear… lightly busy? Yeah, that’s the energy to carry toward New Year’s Eve. I’m not sure why businesses try to pretend we’re doing something during this prelude to the calendar flip.
Goddammit, I’m at 237 words. This is taking a lot out of me.
Shit. Absolutely wandered away for like an hour there. What was I saying. Right, I’m panicking. I’ll never make it to January in this state. I can’t file what I’ve written here, it’s a joke. Pretty soon I’ll lose this job, I’ll lose the apartment and be on the street, where I belong. My girlfriend is watching Vanderpump Rules in the living room, and it’s making me dumber by the second. I was stupid beforehand, too. Maybe I should drink some more. Ahh. Nice. Coping well this evening.
Uh. You’re really still here? You must be desperate to kill that post-lunch lull between checking Instagram and updating your Spotify playlists. All good. Hey, you flying home soon? Do you check a bag, or fit one in the overhead? Sure. Sure. Classic. That’s the way it goes, my friend. Let’s pretend we discussed the weather, also. I’m tired, and I can’t start remembering forecasts. In fact, best-case scenario, there’s a major earthquake tomorrow morning, and I sleep in late.
C’mon, don’t read this part. It’s over. I’m seriously coasting. I ran out of jokes around the third paragraph, and those weren’t even jokes. Leave me alone. Figure out your own problems — it’s not like I have all the answers. Fine: Keep your head down and avoid other people. There’s a chance we can both make it through this yet. Almost everyone is in the same boat, aren’t they?
Whew, I’m ready for bed. Dark so early these days! A quick nightcap. Sweet dreams. Go away.
Miles Klee
Miles Klee is MEL’s resident tank-top dirtbag, shitposter and meme expert. He’s also the author of the novel ‘Ivyland’ and a story collection, ‘True False.’
