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Jett Superior laid this on you on || November 13, 2006 || 11:18 am

To know, know, know him is to love, love, lurrrrve him.

I called in sick today. I usually work half-dead, but today everything save for my teeth and my hair hurts. Interwebnets, I am like Tinkerbell from Peter Pan, only I could give a shit if you believe in me. Pity is what works best for me. Yes indeed, if you people pity my sorry ass with all you’ve got today, then I should be right as rain and cursing somebody tomorrow.

Maxim, being the boss at work, decides his own day off. That day is typically Monday. Maxim, being the boss at home, chooses to use lots of his Mondays doing detail work on our rambly and unfinished home.

A while ago, snuffling and shuffling, I headed for the bath to soak in some eucalyptus salts. There were boards and saws and levels and measuring tapes and nails and drills and the like spread about (ON MY FETCHING WOOL RUUUUG!) in the family room; I was too sick to be a nutbag about it. Besides, usually I’m at work on Mondays and would otherwise know no difference, right? Right.

Ugly and in my fluffiest mint green robe, I shuffled past the music studio, where he stood semi-hunkered over a Magic 8 Ball.

“Will I get this done in twenty minutes?” he whispered to it, holding it firmly in his manly hand. He then looked offended.

Reply hazy, try again??”

No wonder it’s taking us so damned long to finish this place.

See also, “Dissecting the Magic 8 Ball” which is rife with scientific languagey goodness.

1 worked it out »

  1. c 11.13.2006

    thinkin’ about ya feeling better

     

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