I Am So Smrt
Friday, May 2, 2008
Now I am picking chunks of low-grade corned beef out of my teeth and wondering why I didn't go for the soup.
I don't feel like talking about fellatio today.
When I wrote "you" in the above sentence, I meant "me". I highlighted my cleavage very effectively with several bold strokes of a blue ballpoint pen at about 10:00 a.m.
One foot feeling slightly different than the other foot = onset of the Apocalypse.
I may be so moved to take our entire sock drawer after work, throw it in a bag for good will, and start fresh with the purchase of twenty pairs of identical socks.
What's that guy's name again? The one who's in construction? Warren.
What's that declaration that's so import in the United States? Warren.
Where is it that what's-his-head lives? Warren.
And if it's just a regular noun I am trying to recall, my brain throws out donut, like that ever applies. I don't even eat donuts. In fact, I don't even spell it that way. I spell it doughnut. Oh, hello wrong noun! You have annoying spelling!
This is not useful to me.
Oh, crap!
What'd you do? he asked.
I just, uh, knocked something over, I answered.
What did you knock over?
I don't want to tell you, because it's kind of embarrassing, but okay. It was my collection of favourite paperclips.
Your collection of favourite paperclips! Oh, noes! he cried mockingly.
Yes, I have collection of favourite paperclips, and they have their own little tray, and they are lovely, and they make me feel serene in my heart, so you can suck it.
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17 comments:
Actually, what you said on the phone was that you had knocked over your collection of special paperclips. Which seems funnier than favourite paperclips.
This is the first time I've laughed all day long, and you gave me several GOOD ones. THANK YOU. I needed it today. And I have done exactly that same sandwich thing, at Subway. But I caught myself right at the end...which may be worse, because then they knew I was completely mental. "Oh, hi. Yeah, that sandwich, of which I just stood here and directed the construction? You made it ALL WRONG. Start over."
i has me some special paperclips too. i know, it's weird - but it's also awesome. They're all different shapes, sometimes different colours, or maybe just the kind that i know won't scratch or mark up whatever i'm clipping together.
I also have a collection of Triangles that i have created out of paperclips. They're on my lamp. the cleaning lady here keeps trying to throw them away, but i kept making more - so eventually she gave up.
"If you use the end of your retractable pen to scratch the itch between your boobs, make sure that it is indeed retracted, especially if you are wearing a low-cut sweater."
Fabulous. :) You make me so happy.
I have a tray of special paper clips, too. And I keep the most special one (it's shaped like an AIRPLANE!) on my computer, where I can see it. I even took fancy pictures of them.
Anything to get you through the day at a crummy desk job, that's what I say.
This was better than anything on five star friday - and I love five start friday! Thanks for the laugh.
I have a collection of paper clips too. I usually take them off of documents that are given to me and put a regular one in it's place... the good old switcheroo.
As for the socks, I can't be bothered to match socks in the morning because it cuts into my precious sleep time. The first two I pick are the two I wear. As a result, I wear miss-matched socks on most days.
You should have added a happy face between the boobs...then no one would have thought it was an askident.
Special paperclips are for women. Men don't understand them, because they are men. Socks should be banned. Unless they are the bamboo ones. I think that those ones could seriously make me happy for the rest of my life.
I hate to break it to you, but getting 20 pairs of identical socks may not make your life easier. In fact, it might complicate matters. Here's the thing: I have several pairs of identical socks, but I want to keep each one matched with its original mate. Otherwise some of the socks might get worn out at a faster rate than the others. Then I'd have one that was worn through 20%, one at 35% wearage, one at 40%, and one at 90% (the transparency stage). I spend extra time with the clean laundry, trying to match the identical socks to their original mates by microscopically assessing the wear to each sock's heel. It's easier of all the pairs are different at a glance. Trust me.
My solution to the sock problem was to buy lots and lots and lots of diaper pins (they don't rust in the wash). Socks get pinned together before I throw them into the hamper. They get washed together, dried together, folded together and put away together. Each sock remains with its original mate so usage/wearage remains constant. Why, yes, I do have a slight touch of OCD, thank you for asking. I ... I'm just not ready to tell the world about my special paperclips. You're so brave. -Elsie.
I actually read the paragraph about the ball point out loud to my mother-in-law.
Every time I think I have the sock issue solved, a new and ever increasing universal intelligence finds a way to circumvent my solution. At first it was to buy only black, over the calf dress socks and ankle cut sport socks - however what has now happened is that inevitably the dress socks get matched up with one that has shrunk or otherwise been stretched or gotten fubar in some way. Of course, when all your socks look alike, there need not be any discrimination in pairing them up, right? ACK! I've learned to accept mismatched socks, it's when I mismatch my shoes I get mad. As an aside, I'll often times leave a pair of shoes at work so I can just wear sneakers in. Imagine my surprise when I realize I wore my shoes home, left my sneakers there and now I've got the choice of wearing one of two pairs of sneakers all day.
"# Yes, I have collection of favourite paperclips, and they have their own little tray, and they are lovely, and they make me feel serene in my heart, so you can suck it."
This is the bestest sentence in the whole wide world. It made my brain grin. Erin - And there's no crying in baseball. Ha! Dory
I can't remember names, I just say "hey" to everyone. I hate that everyone else seems to know MY name, makes me look like a jerk. oh and the cleavage pen thing, who hasn't done that?
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