|awww hell yeah!|
So when he suggests that we stop by his office after we've hit up a few bars, let's just say that it makes me feel like how I imagine Black Eyed Peas songs make the general public feel at live sporting events: pumped the fuck up!
As soon as he flips on the overhead lights, I'm like a little kid in FAO Schwartz. I'll walk over to his desk, my eyes wide with excitement. Look at his office-y things! I'll click his computer mouse, touch a few of his pens, pick up his stapler and feel its heaviness in my hand. Then, I'll jump in his chair and scoot from one side of his office to the other. I'll spin around in circles until I'm dizzy. I'll steal a stack of Post-It notes and two binder clips; I'm in heaven!
When he asked if I wanted a beer I was like, "Seriously? You have beers here?" and he was like, "This is an ad agency. Of course we have beers here. Duh," my heart skipped a beat. "Hell, I got a bottle of whiskey in my desk if you want some of that." Yes, please!
We're breaking into his office! At night! Drinking! Like criminals! Sort of! Hooray!