There once was a man named Mike.
He’s got some photogenicity.
You’ve seen him on a bike.
He verbaled in such simplicity.
AND THEN HE BROKE IT. THE VERBAL. IT’S BROKEN, MIKE.
Sure, sure. Yesterday was St. Patty’s Day. Guinness or Jameson or Smithwicks. You seem like a reasonable guy. Let’s assume you had one of each, went to synchronized swimming practice (not a knock on them. That shit takes some serious skill), and then went to bed early. Catch a couple ZZZs and then rise and shine for your last day with November Project DC before you move to our rival tribe in sunny (pronounced ‘foggy’) San Francisco. But you weren’t there. I can only assume you decided instead to do one of four things:
Personally, I’m hoping for the cookies. But that’s just my stomach talking. It’s a shame. Truly. Disappointment spread across the crowd. Before the bounce even started, we all decided that since you weren’t there, we’d just head home. No workout. Not true, you say? How would you know? YOU WEREN’T THERE.
We’re not mad. Just disappointed. Leaves a bad taste in the mouth. Enjoy SF. But I’ll tell you this much, they won’t be any more forgiving if you break a verbal there.
DCA OUT.Share via socials: