-Today I booked a reservation for a Mr. Harry Tittay of Intercourse, Pennsylvania. Uh, no, it was not real. The Reservations Manager is off and I'm fucking jealous, so in the name of fucking with him, I sent him an e-mail asking that he give Mr. Tittay a call because we have yet to receive payment. That's what you get if you work with me and have days off that don't synchronize with mine.
-While in line at the post office, my nose started to itch. My hands were full of bills and purses and shit, so I was unable to scratch it. A little voice in my head said, "Why don't you ask the nice elderly gentleman behind you to scratch it? He's not carrying anything." I spent the next half hour in line giggling to myself and scratching my nose with the corner of my cell phone bill envelope.
-Sometimes I think my lips are cute. Like a little bow. Other times I hate them because they're too small.
-When I returned from the post office, I told my coworkers that I'd received a package so big it wouldn't even fit in my box. It was true.
-I've got a terrible case of Dreadlockus Lumpy-hairitis. This affliction is generally caused by a missing brush. And since my brush has been missing for about five days you might say my case is getting severe.
-For some reason I've been repeating in my head, "A cocksucker is a cocksucker is a cocksucker." I think I'm giving myself advice, but I'm not sure as to what situation I'm advising myself just yet. I hope I figure it out soon, because that's some damn good advice if you ask me.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Calling Mr. Tittay, Calling Mr. Tittay
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7 Leg Humps:
Apparently, you are on a roll with the great advice...
I hate it when I lose my hairbrush!
Harry Tittay? That is even just fun to say. I am going to have to use that one, if I may.
Amy- I KNOW! I'm so sad without it. Seriously. And I'm afraid to get another because that would be like, I don't know, cheating or something.
CrazyLady- It is, isn't it. :-) I've been cracking myself up all day!
Bonanza- I just hope my heart will open up to a new one before I'm require to shave off my dreads and am no longer in need of a hairbrush!
My daughter lost her hairbrush once... being older and somewhat wiser, ok, maybe just older, I have learned to hide my hairbrush so no one else can walk away with it. Sadly, my poor Kate had to learn this the hard way... and boy did her brother catch hell for it when she finally found it.
Maybe you should get one of those whistle-beep thingees for your brush. You know--the things designed for helping you find your keys. If they're lost, you whistle and they'll beep in response. Of course, then Zubeboy would make fun of you wandering around the house whistling like an idiot.
Phil
http://nomadechoes.blogdrive.com
Amy- My sisters and I learned quickly to hide our brushes. My poor brother. No wonder his hair looked so messy as a teenager. :-)
Phil- See, that is an invention I could appreciate! And Zube Boy makes fun of me all the time anyway, so I can live with that.
We've got some psychic connection or something going on. I've been in a touchy feely class at work and they're saying I can have productive conversations with some of my untrustworthy coworkers. All I kept thinking is 'no way, a fuck stick is a fuck stick...'
Cocksucker, fuck stick, not a whole lotta difference.
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