« Home

Wedding: Revisited »Late Nights Will Do That To You »You! You Are The Voice! »All Good Things Must Come To An End »Mauled By A Bear »It Has Only Gone Downhill... »Last Of The Cell Phone Saga »And It Only Gets Worse »My Parents Should Have More Aptly Named Me Calamit... »What Gives Me Passion? » 

I'm Drunk, That's What's Wrong

Published 14.7.05 by Porkchop | E-mail this post

E-mail this post



Remember me (?)



All personal information that you provide here will be governed by the Privacy Policy of Blogger.com. More...


My bosses little girls were in here this morning. They happen to like me (suprise, suprise!) so they crowd around my desk, steal my pens, ask me questions and gaze in wonderment at "The Lady In White".

However, this morning, as they crowded round one of them looked at me and asked suspiciously "What is wrong with you face?!?!"

I thought about telling her I have allergies, or that I am really, really tired. But I did a very horrible thing, I leaned over to her and whispered:

"I was run over by a truck on my way to work". She laughed openly at me. So I tried again:

"I was mauled by a bear" She rolled her eyes. I tried one last time:


"Your Mommy hit me."

0 Responses to “I'm Drunk, That's What's Wrong”

Leave a Reply

      Convert to boldConvert to italicConvert to link

 

This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

cookies for troops


I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.


the past

archives


ATOM 0.3