So I was feeling pretty good on my way to work when I noticed a Ferrari broken down by the side of the road. Flat Tyre
Turned out that the 19 year-old Swedish Lesbian twins hadn't a clue how to change a wheel, so I helped them out, and, well, turns out they're actually bisexual. 
I was about to explain to the boss that I was late because of Blow-Job fatigue, but he was more interested in the news that I've achieved my targets for the year 9 months early, so would I like my salary trebled, or take the rest of the year off as paid leave. Decisions decisions.
At lunchtime I was buying a sandwich from the general store by the office and decided to check my Lottery ticket. Now to some people, 1.3 million isn't much, but I can tell you it added a spring to my step.
Having negotiated a half-way deal (3 months paid leave and a bonus of half a year's salary), I thought my day couldn't get any better.
I got home and read the day's mail (John Malkovich loves my script and wants the lead role since Tarantino agreed to direct it, the Tax Office apologising that they overcharged me 20K with cheque attached, and a Reader's Digest special offer. Ho Hum)
OK. I've had a bloody awful day. Work was a nightmare - had to be pleasant to nincompoops and vicious to a sweet girl, found I need to leave the house at 5am tomorrow to hear our new minister's cunning plans, Noblet has a temperature, and the cat did a crap in the shower. I needed to vent.
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