I just love this guy. He rides my bus on the way home and this hat makes me smile every time I see it. The eyeballs!!! I love it.
This pic is the background on my phone.
p.s. groovy Christmas tunes are streaming via FredFlares “Staff Picks” Boom Box…http://www.fredflare.com/images/nav/music_ov.gif
or http://www.fredflare.com/customer/home_reind3.php?siteID= and click on Music, choose staff pics.
I also dig DJ Mo.
Let me start from the beginning. At my place of employment, the office staff is small, in numbers not stature. Not only that we’re all in rather close quarters. Pertinent to this story is that the bathroom is located in the break room. Awkward? Very. People are eating and people are peeing in too close proximity.
While in this bathroom this morning I was tending to the necessary chore of washing one’s hands after the business is finished. I had the water running and I was rushing to lather up and dry off and get back to my work. In my rush and exacerbated by my very impatient nature, this small and typically uneventful moment in the bathroom exploded into an event. The soap was dribbling out and not providing enough suds for me to properly wash my hands. So, I squeezed the bottle of the pump. My theory was that this would put pressure on things and ease the soap up the pump. The bottle had plenty of soap. I kept asking, out loud, “What the fuck! You have enough soap, get out already!” My screaming and squeezing didn’t work.
My next step of action, to start incessant pumping, which I did. And this, coupled with the earlier squeezing, provided results. Unfortunately not the results I was aiming for. The soap, which in my case was a creamy white soap, exploded out of the pup in a horizontal action. It was unreal. And, since our sinks are lower than normal, this horizontal spewing landed on my upper thigh and on my black dress. The soap slid slowly down my thigh, resting in a dribbled mess.
No doubt, this mess looked exactly like cum. That’s what I thought when I saw it. It was gross. There it was and there I was. I started immediately cleaning up and the only way I know to get soap off something is to rinse it in water. I hoisted my dress off and started rinsing the lower half in the sink. I was careful to contain the wet, but the water saturated the front half of my dress.
There I was, standing in the bathroom in my black leggings and with my nude spanx over top (I forgot to put them on until after I had the leggings on and I’m too lazy to start the process over), and my dress in the sink. Thankfully I had on my sexy bra.
I knew I would get this soap out, but what would everyone in the break room, which is also our copy room and mail room, think about the length of time I was spending in the bathroom.
It was the perfect storm.
I called my dad to remind him that he’s picking me up at the airport tomorrow morning. We had a good call and as usual the best part came at the end. After I reminded him what time I was arriving and of all the other details he said, “Great. See you tomorrow. Beer floats. That’s all I’m saying. If a Coke float is good, imagine a beer float.” Then he hung up. He never says goodbye, he’s one of those people who feel it’s bad luck.
Why can’t we leave Tiger alone. This country is so uptight about marital affairs. If I was wifey, I would be more humiliated from all the apologizing and all the “graceful wife” bullshit than from the actual affairs.
On his website he writes, “Elin has always done more to support our family and shown more grace than anyone could possibly expect.”
Tiger strikes me as an upstanding citizen that would never bend his wife over or pull her hair. This isn’t because he’s not into bending women over and pulling their hair. He is. We all are. He wouldn’t do this to graceful wifey because she’s his wife. His Madonna. He/she or both have elevated wifey to levels of untouchable prestige.
Men like the Tiger, (power, money, fame, good looks) have a “Madonna” and a “whore” in there life. In some rare cases they can be the same woman. But most men can’t treat their “Madonna” like they treat their “whore”. They’re socialized that a whore can’t be a Madonna and a Madonna can’t be a whore.
My suggestion to wifey, tell the Tiger to fuck you like the whore you are. It might help. He can spoon you afterwards.
Do you think Elin should treat the Tiger like a whore. Maybe I have the dynamics all wrong. Is it the Tiger that wants to be bent over?
Let’s agree, that whatever should happen, we should LEAVE TIGER ALONE!
In memory, I present “Leave Brittany Alone!”
]
Need I say more. Here’s another pic of Chuck, we were spooning and watching Sesame Street on Thanksgiving morning.
Here’s some other pics from our morning walk.
Banana and Bacon sandwich.
The bacon crisp. The banana barely ripe.
Slice the banana, 1/4 inch thick, and saute in a little butter.
Once heated through, layer the banana on a piece of buttered bread and lay the bacon over the bananas. Slide another piece of buttered bread on top and panfry until bread is golden and slightly toasted.
I was writing out a Christmas card for my g’ma and after filling out her address I started to write her name on the envelope. But I couldn’t make the pen move. I couldn’t write her full name.
The problem is I don’t know my g’ma’s full name. I don’t. I do not know her last name. I remember two surnames she has had in the past, but I can’t recall this new one. I don’t remember the new guy’s first name, either. Hmmmm.
I just wrote my note inside her card and since we don’t really know each other, it was awkward and shallow. But, I tried to jazz it up as much as I could and kept my audience in mind. My g’ma in old, really old. She’s a farmer’s daughter from Texas with big hair and country sensibilities. My note is on the inside flap of a Snoopy Christmas Card. Behold, my note.
Grandma,
I sure do miss you. I miss everyone is Texas, it will always be home to me. Forever. It’s really beautiful in Philadelphia and the people are friendly, enough. No place will ever have people as friendly as the people in Texas. Take care and I love y’all.
Yours ever,
Sweet
p.s. Whatever, Martha! is hilarious. I will officially begin referring to my new friends Alexis and Jennifer (always paired) and recounting our many adventures throughout the day. We’ll probably have a three-way one night, but just for the hell of it. They’re making cootie-catchers right now! I so want to be at that party. (if you don’t know what a cootie catcher is…here’s your link to make one, http://www.wikihow.com/Make-a-Cootie-Catcher.)
This weekend, Chuck and I went for long stroll. We stopped for a spell in a little park. As it turned out the park was/is a Viet Nam memorial. There we were; I was sitting on a stone ledge reading and Chuck was laying about. We were your average J Crew image. Not exactly. We’re a little loose around the edges. But you know that.
Chuck–>
After a bit, we picked up our bodies and started to wander around the park and head back home. Chuck needed to use the loo and in turn I needed to clean up his loo. While I was picking up the package I was startled by a shriek. Deep inside I thought Charlie must be eating someone. To my relief he was digging a whole. He’s always been a digger, no big. It’s just dirt.
But, this time was different. This time was a big deal. That shriek came from a lady in the park with us. She was “mortified” at what Charlie had done. She was near hysterical and I was near bored. I was laughing and trying to calm her down. I thought she was scared of Charlie, since he looks like a wolf, he gets fear as a reaction but can usually calm people down with his kooky ears.
Not this time. I finally deduced that she was pissed that Charlie had dug a whole. She went on and on about how he was defacing a federal monument and how she wanted my name and phone number. Stranger Danger!!!!
I don’t think so. I’m not giving this crazy bitch my info. As we were walking away she yelled, “Gypsies!!! Stay away….mumble mumble.”
Bottom line. This Gypsy and her wolf will visit the Memorial whenever we want. Suck it.
On a good day I have trouble understanding my boss due to the accent. But now, the boss has taken to throwing in French words. Tomorrow I’ll clear up what may be a misunderstanding. Maybe the boss thinks I know French.
More likely the boss is showing off and successfully putting me in my place. Whatever place that is. I already know the boss test me with regard to grammar. That’s right. The boss plants grammar mistakes in drafts for me to find and correct.
That’s why I’m reading grammar books.
Es o si que es. (that’s not French, but the best I can do)
All in one show.
Jane Lynch
Paul Rudd (producer + guest spots)
Fred Savage, yes from Wonder Years (director)
Megan Mullally
Maybe Rob Thomas (producer)
We’re in replays now with the Season 2 starting in April.
