Whatever it takes

When I was a Senior in high school our football coach made us these shirts that said Do WIT. The WIT stood for whatever it takes, as in whatever it takes to win. I had that shirt until I went through my Hulk Hogan phase in college and ripped it in half at Kilroy's. Needless to say, I haven't taken much of Coach O's advice in life. I half ass it through nearly all of my endeavors.

But today, I am going to heed his sage wisdom. I am going to do whatever it takes...to get the fuck out of this office.

I've been ready to start this long weekend since last Sunday. I fucking love holidays and I love America. There are a bunch of Google kids on a boat right now getting wasted. I'm not one of them, it makes me feel unpatriotic that I have to sit here and review dailies of a god dam procedural cop show instead of drinking outdoors.

Sure there are the over achievers trying to pack 5 days of work into this 4 day week. But you know what? Fuck them. That is such a hacky approach to corporate culture. Is anyone really thinking about anything other than bonging a 40 and shooting roman candles at their buddies? I am, to say the least, mentally checked out.

Starting tonight I am beginning a bender so aggressive that I may not make it out the other side. When I get to Wurstkuche at 7pm I am turning the amps up to 11 and I will not stop until the US Women host the World Cup trophy Sunday night and I collapse into a pile of my own blood and vomit.

But that's the problem...

While I have lots of fun plans this weekend, I kind of get the feeling that my coworkers don't. I hear lots of "I'm going to relax all weekend." "I might go to Venice and clog the streets of a neighborhood I don't belong in."

These are not fun weekend plans. Those weekend plans are bullshit. I would not be looking forward to that weekend either. You know how Christmas is a constant reminder to people that they are alone? A random 3 day drinking weekend in the summer is a reminder to people that they are losers that didn't get invited anywhere.

I am not a loser. People invited me places. I have shit to do. I'm going bowling, I'm going to barbecue, dare I say, I might do some hallucinogens and watch the fireworks.

Shit, I might have some consensual sex...maybe with multiple partners?

So how in the fuck am I going to get that kick ass weekend started?

I need to get the fuck out of here.

But how do I accomplish that? Well, for starters, I will lie. About everything.

"Did you deliver that cut to TNT?"

It's been taken care of. (I told the assistant over there to cover for me, I don't want to drive to the valley)

"Have you scheduled all of the ADR for episode 212?"

Of course. (I haven't even started. Monday when this comes out, I'll blame a 'miscommunication.' A miscommunication is a magical term you can throw around when you fuck up and it partially absolves you from your crime.)

"What about your expense report?"

Filed and awaiting approval. (HA! What a fucking joke! I haven't filed one in months. Right now I have charges from a bar in Park City, the Ace Hotel, Townhouse, Bungalow and a fucking strip club. Do you think I want to address those now? I will certainly be relieved of my duties...OR I can turn said expense report in on my last day along with a blank check and say SORRY, OFF TO LONDON NOW!)

See Monday is going to suck regardless. Remember when I prophesied (is that a word?) that I would end the weekend basically dead? Well whether I am dead on Monday or dead and being yelled at, the day will not be fun. Might as well set fire to all of my responsibility now and take a gigantic Xanax Monday morning, right?

Fuck this place, the show is getting cancelled anyway; I have a god damn Green Flash West Coast IPA in my fridge at home.

I have 3 pairs of pink polo swimsuits in my car right now. MY CAR. RIGHT NOW.

Twitter reports are coming in that say there is a pretty good party going on at the Lincoln Place apartments pool right now. Fun is being had without me. This is unacceptable.

Man, the minute I get out of here I am going to go home and blast music so loud it could be considered criminal. I think I'm going to plays some 90's rap, more specifically the work of Percy Miller aka Master P. I'm going to thunder "Make Em Say Uh" throughout 627 Westminster. I'm going to rap along, I will not censor the N words. My god, I can't wait to mumble through the Mystikal part. BITCH WE TRUE SOLDIERS, WE DON'T DIE, WE KEEP ROLLING NAH NAH NAH NAH NAH!!!!

But first I have to escape.

How TF am I getting out of here. Seriously, nothing else in the world matters to me right now. Total genocide could be happening this exact moment and so long as it was not taking place in Venice, I could give a fuck.

My work is done, may I leave?

You need phone coverage until 6? The only people calling after 2 are fucking communists! What if I start coughing? Fake a bereavement? SOMEONE DIED, GOTTA GO!

Why is anyone here still? Is it because they live in the valley and have shitty kids? It must be. One of the editors actually brought his daughter to work today, he looks miserable. I can see past his glazed over eyes that he used to be a party monster. He was happy. Gone. It's all gone. Now his fourth of July weekend will consist of drinking shitty domestic beer in Encino and making sure his kids don't burn themselves with sparklers.

Sounds fucking awful.

Who is going to watch over me to make sure I don't blow off a finger? Oh, no one? Cool!

They aren't buying this cough. Should I start going into detail about the urinary tract infection I had last week? "(I thought it was an STD!)

Maybe I can walk my coworkers through a prostate exam.

"John you just turned 50, I would like to talk to you about colon health."

God dammit, Wimbledon is on. I could be on the courts doing my best Roddick impression. Roddick was the fucking man, I'm pretty sure he banged one of my high school friends once.

Wait a second...

You know what?

I have leverage.

Today was Allen's last day.

Allen leaving kind of fucked us in the ass. There are now 3 people here to do the work of 4. They cannot replace Allen because there is not budget to do so, the 3 people left will just pick up the slack.

What if I just left right now? Left and turned off my phone. Didn't check my email all weekend...and just showed up Monday like nothing had happened?

"Where did you go Friday afternoon?"

I had that appointment, remember?

"We called you 1000 times."

Well that makes sense because my appointment was at the Apple store, they were fixing my phone and laptop. We've discussed these problems I've been having.

"You can't be serious."

Huh, must have been some sort of MISCOMMUNICATION.

BOOM. FUCKING WALK OFF.

"You know usually we would fire you but..."

But I have leverage. Look at me, Megan....look at me. I'm the Captain now!

Do you want these drives to go to Burbank or what? You going to go on some hiring blitzkrieg? Interview a bunch of schmucks to replace me?

I thought not. New summer hours are in effect per Dave, 10am-5pm. That applies to the editors too!

"Wow thanks Dave!"

"What, what are you doing?"

I'm taking the fuck over. I'm doing WIT. (WHATEVER IT TAKES.) Hold my calls, I'm going to lunch.

"It's 10am."

I had a rough weekend, I may not be back.

(But for real, I'm just going to close my laptop and drive home now. Wish me luck.)