I had a dream last night that I was playing poker with some people from work (my boss included) and we were playing with dirty cards. At some point in the game, I asked what a card stood for and my boss hollered "PUSSY!" and I dropped my head in mortification. (In my dream, not while I was sleeping. I did blush in my sleep though, because I woke up feeling the heat from that.) I think I need to not eat cookies past 8pm.
So today was a waste of time at work. I sent three FedExes and did three scans and I called that a day. Putzed around until 2 then headed home for a large glass of wine followed by a 2 hour nap. And then kevin headed out to get dinner. Which...yeah, crappy junk food! Because nothing says Christmas like nice hot french fries.
So today was a waste of time at work. I sent three FedExes and did three scans and I called that a day. Putzed around until 2 then headed home for a large glass of wine followed by a 2 hour nap. And then kevin headed out to get dinner. Which...yeah, crappy junk food! Because nothing says Christmas like nice hot french fries.
1 Comments:
oh yeah, cram my feather covered rage bacon in your saliva glazed lunch bag because i just saved a bunch of money by switching to your mom's kitchen that of which is filled with poptarts crying for a friend that will only use them to buy taco shells and vegas hookers. if you do this my vagina can finally rest from fighting the bitter evil of wal mart shopping bags. the fate of my resivour tip lays in Morgan Freeman's basket full of KFC chicken, nut crust flavored, not shitzu tasty. do you wanna date my daughter, she has only a right eyebrow, and only likes men who put butter in between their toes and stab themselves in the calf.... not the thigh... the calf, only weird people stab themselves in the thigh. rub my temples.
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