Mid ship engine

Carl was starting to feel his age. The confidence he felt at the office was starting to wear thin. His shoes were toeing in more than usual, and he could feel his girthy trunk pushing down on his knees. The pits in his shirt were starting to seep betraying his composure. The weed and alcohol that elevated their fishing team's collective revelation of getting "Reel Deal" embroidered on their shirts, was not making him feel any less of an ass. Carl decided to go to the Christmas party regardless. Hopefully he could get a jump from the neighbors kid and not catch too much smack for still driving a Pontiac Fiero. Besides Gina will be there, and girl loves her some Goldschlagger.