The end is nigh!…of February, at least.
This is something new.
First, I’m typing left handed with a bandaged paw, so ‘scuse the spelling. I expect auto erect to have a field day.
Second, I am doing this during my work day…my mobile beside my computer and me tapping in my random thoughts of the day…
Talk about appropriate, Chicago’s 25 or 6 to 4 is playing on my iPod.
For my next trick, I shall go climb stacks of wood…not kidding as this is part of what I do. Go out to find average widths and color on a pack of five-quarter cherry. No wonder they pay me the big bucks…oh, wait a tick.
I survived the climbing. Now I have a craving for that blessed item that Walter Bishop sings about…think Fringe…licorice! But shepherds pie will have to do…in another hour…when we get to lunch.
Funny how close the word lunch is to lynch.
I wine if auto erect has messed this up yet? Ah, who the fuck cares.
Still want licorice.
Reading comments on my last story as they came in has given me a new inspiration. May have to post the exact same story…but from the perspective of the rubber chicken.
Just thought of the title for this budding masterpiece…pfft.
Auto erect just tried to correct orgy to orgy. This is something I can appreciate.
Wouldn’t out be good if we could wish ourselves away…Nik Kershaw has done so much better material the last few years and I bet few outside of the UK know it.
How does one hide a purchase order for $2000? My minimum order is $2500 and I have $500 booked for orders. Will screw up next week’s deliveries if I don’t find a way to do this. Technically not supposed to be ordering stock yet.
These customers that call in asking for a deal constantly are funny. If you cry wolf, how will you know it is a deal.
Lunch!! Shepherds pie and coffee. The lunch of champions.
My manager keeps wandering over and I keep thinking I need to hide the phone. Careful what you wish to see, young Padawan. He’s ten years younger than I am, so I can call him that…just not to his face…nor out loud.
Hockey highlights now a nothing days lunchtime like watching the Toronto Maple Leafs lose. For the record, I have stick by my promise to not watch another NHL game after the work stoppage…I’d not bother with the highlights if I had control of the lunchroom remote.
Alex Smith is traded to the Kansas City Chiefs…the quarterback graveyard welcomes a new member.
Lunch is over…back on me head. Yes, I said, “me head”…my Irish is showing.
I still think Katherine Wynne is the Ontario equivalent of Kim Campbell. With the mess Dalton McGuinty…McDaddy left her, she should go down quickly.
I wonder of anyone ever reads this crap.
Such language…words like crap should be banned so the children don’t hear them…who’s with me? Imagine the fucking things we could do together.
Where’s my licorice?
Battery is down to 30%…I may not be able to finish this.
Is it vacation yet? Seems it is for the pope…er…ex-pope.
Is Benedict’s helicopter named Trigger?
Ninety minutes until vacation…Sexapalooza tomorrow night…an extended four-day weekend. What could possibly go wrong?
Note to self…must buy beer.
Typical…I’m still working…I’m here to see all of them come in the morning, and I’m here to see half of them go home…this just isn’t right.
CRAP! Where’s my fucking licorice?
And I’m outta here. That’s my work day with large gaping breaks while I climb lumber stacks. As always, thank you to my readers, but I will be the first to question the sanity of anyone who read this entire post.
Now, should I edit this? Crap, no…sorry…fuck no!