Statement: Because you caught me updating my Netflix queue at work, I have enough time on my hands to help you organize your Mortar, Concrete, and Grout Test Reports.
Sure, I have a little time on my hands. I’m efficient. That doesn’t mean I have time to do your job, too. Just to clear something up–when I helped you out a month ago clear off the landfill you call a desk, I wasn’t setting up a standing date. Stop hinting that you could really use my organizational skills again. Buying me lunch isn’t going to entice me back into the no man’s land that is your office. It smells like onions and feet. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a couple of hundred unread blog posts to attend to in my Google Reader. Good day, sir.
Statement: I enjoy coming home to find 3 or 4 pairs of underwear scattered about the house, sans crotch.
Obviously. Otherwise why would I leave my underwear on the very top of my tall dresser, easily accessible to any passing pitbull with a vertical leap of 6′ or more? Clearly I am too good to wear any single pair of panties more than once.
Statement: Traffic signs displaying ‘SPEED LIMIT 45’ should be interpreted to mean ‘drive as slow as you’d like, preferably 30 mph.’
Surprising, I know. Even though one of my headlights burned out last week so I am forced to drive with my brights on to avoid a ticket until I can convince Steve to help me replace the bulb, know that I would be driving with my brights on behind you even if it this wasn’t the case. Because I’d like to be home at 5:45 on a Friday evening, not crawling behind your slow ass, watching as you gab on the phone and toss your cigarette butts out of the window. You probably can’t tell because my bright lights are in your rear view mirror, but I’m giving you the finger.
Statement: I would kick ass at Wheel of Fortune.
POLYNESIAN RESTAURANT. Got it.
PLUS I would not be a greedy spinner, risking bankrupting myself while trying to up my winnings for the round. I would be content win a couple thousand each round, and really clean up in the ‘toss up’ rounds. I wouldn’t scream or lose my cool when I landed on a big money space, either. I’d calmly collect my cardboard pie piece which represented a trip to New Mexico, and laugh all the way to the bonus round. Which I would win. Then I would give Pat Sajak a high-five and smile at Vanna as she opened the door to the brand new Chevy convertible I had just won. I’d pretend I was driving and honk the horn as the program faded to commercial.
Statement: You can win cool stuff just by commenting on this blog.
Click here for details.