Strange?

Off the wall?

Over the top?

To be remembered?

A photo of a young girl, in frog pajamas, with long flowing hair.  I think she was carrying a messenger bag and singing.

A slip of the tongue.  Oh, a new hair do?  Nice.  But then, you always look like you just rolled out of bed.

She was old, dying and wanted a hot dog. I left the hospital and got her a dog.  The nurses chewed me out. What the hell? It was only a #5@%%5 hotdog.  Really?  I thought you were not at liberty to say @5%@#W5#%$%^.

Come on, Wolf.  Tell Francie.  I am your pimp, and your post is the Emmaus bakery.

Let’s the 5 of us order a pizza.  What kind?  No.  I don’t want pepperoni.  No, I don’t want meat lover’s.  How about wings?  Bread sticks?   (30 minutes later):  I don’t like thin crust.  I want a pan pizza.  What about wings?  That’s it.  Just call and order something.  I am hungry.  When will they deliver? How do I know?  We haven’t even ordered yet.  (an hour later)  Pizza and wings are here.  WTH?  Where is my blue cheese?  What do you mean you forgot to order my blue cheese?  Conclusion:  A sure disaster in the making:  5 women, deciding on what to eat.

Hey, Wolf, are you eating that damn celery again?  I hear crunching.  I may have to leave my desk, if you don’t stop that damn crunching.

Bang! Boom! Slam!  What the heck is that?  Oh yeah, It’s Pat, putting those kits together again.  She goes into a vacant cube, like a martyr, and assembles those kits in binders, all by herself.  And she makes sure we all know it.

Hello?  Yes?  You are trying to deliver 89 cartons to a customer?  They are refusing it?  Why?  They can’t remember ordering it?  How can you order 89 cartons of stuff and not remember?

What do you mean you are closed on Christmas?  That is unacceptable.

It snowed, for 2 days.  Light fluffy stuff.  I felt like I was in a snow globe.  But then, don’t we all live in bubbles?

 

Cheers!

 

Wolf

 

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