359
R. Linda:
So there I was on Tuesday, creeping on down to Boston in the snow that was supposed to be a dusting but wasn't. The bumper-to-bumper traffic was slower than usual. And you R. Linda, there you were at home in Denver looking in the mirror wondering when your hair was going to grow back on your noggin. I had reached me place of business and was walking towards the front door as snow and wind nearly knocked me off me feet. So much for a dusting, I thought eagerly looking forward to the warmth of me cubicle. And you were thinking, no wonder I keep losing heat, I've no hair on my head to insulate myself!
I pushed open the front door to the office and was met with a blast of frigid air. I looked at the receptionist like WHAT IS THIS? She told me the heat was off, and they were "working on it." Meanwhile, you were rummaging through your kiddies knit hats looking for one to keep the hairless noggin warm.
I cupped me hands to me mouth and blew into them to generate some warmth, but me nose hairs froze as a result. You squinted your eyes at the Jack Skellington knit cap that gave you a nightmarish look. "What's this?" You said sounding very much like Jack. "Nah!" you shouted sounding more like you, as you threw it off for another.
I pressed the button for the lift, but it wasn't working. I took to the stairs, all 3,000 of them and the only thought that kept me warm was the thought of hot coffee at the common area outside me cubicle. Meanwhile, you were on hat number three. You looked at the skull and crossbones on the sides, pretty nice even for you, but the Mohawk woollies from front to back . . . "Nah, makes me look like Billy Idol doing an impression of Sid Vicious," you said throwing it aside.
Before going to me small cubicle, I stopped at the coffee machine to find there was 1/4 teaspoon, all grounds on the bottom of the coffee pot. Me coworkers looked at me guiltily and turned away. I started to make a fresh pot.
Meanwhile, you were onto hat number six, a bright red, yellow and purple affair with a hint of orange that you rather liked. It had a long tail with a purple tassel on the end, the ear flaps though, draped down to your collarbone, "NAH," you said throwing it on the floor, "makes me look like Gabe on crack." You started to dig in the box for a smaller one.
I threw me briefcase on me desk, and I fiddled with me computer trying to get the cold thing going. Back in Denver, you were looking quite jazzy in an LA Lakers logo hat, but the gold clashed with your skin tone. "Gees, I look like a jaundiced canary on steroids," you muttered disappointed and off it went to the discard pile.
I went out to get me a big cup of joe to find me co-workers had finished off the fresh pot. I stood in open-mouthed horror and looked accusingly at them as they all tried to make themselves small by looking down at the floor. I banged the pot around to make another pot, not at all happy, muttering not-very-nice things about coffee gluttons. You, on the other hand, were toasty warm in your house, and still trying on hats. You picked up a Denver Broncos logo hat and smiled like a demon, ORANGE and blue, your fav combo. If I was there, I would have told you it made you look like Mrs. Peanut with an orange glow, but you didn't care. Now for some boots. This will be a horror show since boots to you are made of rubber with tiny holes over the top of the foot and open in the back, they suspiciously resemble CROCS.
I rushed out as I heard the wheels on the desk chairs squeak signaling to me the coffee gluttons were on the move. I got there first and poured meself a cup of joe and inhaling the steam I headed back to me cold cubicle. Back in Denver, you were sitting on the floor, one leg in the air as you perused the shoe on the end of it. It was a black clunky number with thick rubber soles. "Nah, look like Mrs. Egduf in a nursing home." You tossed your foot and the shoe went flying, the crashing of window glass not bothering you a bit. You closed your eyes and felt for another shoe, "Surprise me," you whispered to no one in particular.
I sipped the steaming coffee, smiling as the warmth flowed down me throat to me tum. I sat there like a Cheshire cat content on dope. You, meanwhile had opened your eyes to the view of a giant Timberland work boot. You stared at it wondering where it came from. You tossed it over your shoulder after your mind couldn't come up with an acceptable answer, and the crashing of the glass lamp didn't phase you in the least.
I looked at the temperature gauge on me battery-operated desk weather station, it was minus 5 in the office. I looked out the window at the bank time and temp and it said plus 3. I picked up me half-drunk cup of joe and went downstairs to enjoy the Florida weather. Meanwhile, you had decided since you couldn't find boots that satisfied, you'd coat your feet in egg wash and flour and pass that off as white rain boots.
Yesterday, I stayed home sitting in front of a roaring fire and enough coffee to wire the entire state of New Hampshire. I understood you were seen, or not as the case may be, driving your father to the casino. Well, it looked like he was in the passenger side by himself. Police said people called in about a disembodied pair of hands grasping the steering column, but nobody in sight behind it. I know you're short, but don't you get tired of being pulled over for that?
I sat there all day and watched the handle of the snow shovel slowly disappear as the snow piled up. By the time it was finished, the sleet came and encrusted the snow over it into a block of ice. I smiled to meself knowing full well I didn't have an ice pick. I don't know what you were doing, I suppose checking the online weather to make sure I was getting snowed in, much to your secret delight I should share the pain.
It was suggested to me that I should go out and buy a snowblower. Under threat of mutilation if I didn't do something soon, I called Home Depot, they were plumb out as they say in New Hampshire. I made a gratuitous call to Lowes, the same thing. I was off the hook.
Today, I was enjoying a virtual heat wave. It was 17 outside and I was in me shorts and wearing me sunglasses. Yes, I did have me snow boots on. I needed those to plant me lawn chair in 25" of snow. But I had me reflector and I was out sunning meself. Well, at least I was until me wife threatened me with bodily harm if I did not at least inquire about a tractor to remove all that snow and ice. I be putting a photo of me enjoying the summer-like weather -- a little skiing and sunbathing at the same time as I made me way down the driveway to the tractor store. And you, are you still shopping for a booster seat for your car?
Gabe
Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
So there I was on Tuesday, creeping on down to Boston in the snow that was supposed to be a dusting but wasn't. The bumper-to-bumper traffic was slower than usual. And you R. Linda, there you were at home in Denver looking in the mirror wondering when your hair was going to grow back on your noggin. I had reached me place of business and was walking towards the front door as snow and wind nearly knocked me off me feet. So much for a dusting, I thought eagerly looking forward to the warmth of me cubicle. And you were thinking, no wonder I keep losing heat, I've no hair on my head to insulate myself!
I pushed open the front door to the office and was met with a blast of frigid air. I looked at the receptionist like WHAT IS THIS? She told me the heat was off, and they were "working on it." Meanwhile, you were rummaging through your kiddies knit hats looking for one to keep the hairless noggin warm.
I cupped me hands to me mouth and blew into them to generate some warmth, but me nose hairs froze as a result. You squinted your eyes at the Jack Skellington knit cap that gave you a nightmarish look. "What's this?" You said sounding very much like Jack. "Nah!" you shouted sounding more like you, as you threw it off for another.
I pressed the button for the lift, but it wasn't working. I took to the stairs, all 3,000 of them and the only thought that kept me warm was the thought of hot coffee at the common area outside me cubicle. Meanwhile, you were on hat number three. You looked at the skull and crossbones on the sides, pretty nice even for you, but the Mohawk woollies from front to back . . . "Nah, makes me look like Billy Idol doing an impression of Sid Vicious," you said throwing it aside.
Before going to me small cubicle, I stopped at the coffee machine to find there was 1/4 teaspoon, all grounds on the bottom of the coffee pot. Me coworkers looked at me guiltily and turned away. I started to make a fresh pot.
Meanwhile, you were onto hat number six, a bright red, yellow and purple affair with a hint of orange that you rather liked. It had a long tail with a purple tassel on the end, the ear flaps though, draped down to your collarbone, "NAH," you said throwing it on the floor, "makes me look like Gabe on crack." You started to dig in the box for a smaller one.
I threw me briefcase on me desk, and I fiddled with me computer trying to get the cold thing going. Back in Denver, you were looking quite jazzy in an LA Lakers logo hat, but the gold clashed with your skin tone. "Gees, I look like a jaundiced canary on steroids," you muttered disappointed and off it went to the discard pile.
I went out to get me a big cup of joe to find me co-workers had finished off the fresh pot. I stood in open-mouthed horror and looked accusingly at them as they all tried to make themselves small by looking down at the floor. I banged the pot around to make another pot, not at all happy, muttering not-very-nice things about coffee gluttons. You, on the other hand, were toasty warm in your house, and still trying on hats. You picked up a Denver Broncos logo hat and smiled like a demon, ORANGE and blue, your fav combo. If I was there, I would have told you it made you look like Mrs. Peanut with an orange glow, but you didn't care. Now for some boots. This will be a horror show since boots to you are made of rubber with tiny holes over the top of the foot and open in the back, they suspiciously resemble CROCS.
I rushed out as I heard the wheels on the desk chairs squeak signaling to me the coffee gluttons were on the move. I got there first and poured meself a cup of joe and inhaling the steam I headed back to me cold cubicle. Back in Denver, you were sitting on the floor, one leg in the air as you perused the shoe on the end of it. It was a black clunky number with thick rubber soles. "Nah, look like Mrs. Egduf in a nursing home." You tossed your foot and the shoe went flying, the crashing of window glass not bothering you a bit. You closed your eyes and felt for another shoe, "Surprise me," you whispered to no one in particular.
I sipped the steaming coffee, smiling as the warmth flowed down me throat to me tum. I sat there like a Cheshire cat content on dope. You, meanwhile had opened your eyes to the view of a giant Timberland work boot. You stared at it wondering where it came from. You tossed it over your shoulder after your mind couldn't come up with an acceptable answer, and the crashing of the glass lamp didn't phase you in the least.
I looked at the temperature gauge on me battery-operated desk weather station, it was minus 5 in the office. I looked out the window at the bank time and temp and it said plus 3. I picked up me half-drunk cup of joe and went downstairs to enjoy the Florida weather. Meanwhile, you had decided since you couldn't find boots that satisfied, you'd coat your feet in egg wash and flour and pass that off as white rain boots.
Yesterday, I stayed home sitting in front of a roaring fire and enough coffee to wire the entire state of New Hampshire. I understood you were seen, or not as the case may be, driving your father to the casino. Well, it looked like he was in the passenger side by himself. Police said people called in about a disembodied pair of hands grasping the steering column, but nobody in sight behind it. I know you're short, but don't you get tired of being pulled over for that?
I sat there all day and watched the handle of the snow shovel slowly disappear as the snow piled up. By the time it was finished, the sleet came and encrusted the snow over it into a block of ice. I smiled to meself knowing full well I didn't have an ice pick. I don't know what you were doing, I suppose checking the online weather to make sure I was getting snowed in, much to your secret delight I should share the pain.
It was suggested to me that I should go out and buy a snowblower. Under threat of mutilation if I didn't do something soon, I called Home Depot, they were plumb out as they say in New Hampshire. I made a gratuitous call to Lowes, the same thing. I was off the hook.
Today, I was enjoying a virtual heat wave. It was 17 outside and I was in me shorts and wearing me sunglasses. Yes, I did have me snow boots on. I needed those to plant me lawn chair in 25" of snow. But I had me reflector and I was out sunning meself. Well, at least I was until me wife threatened me with bodily harm if I did not at least inquire about a tractor to remove all that snow and ice. I be putting a photo of me enjoying the summer-like weather -- a little skiing and sunbathing at the same time as I made me way down the driveway to the tractor store. And you, are you still shopping for a booster seat for your car?
Gabe
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| WHOOSH! |
