(no subject)
Well, folks. Nothing good begins with "well folks". It only comes up in bad situations, like: "Well, folks, both of our engines are out, but if we dump the fuel, we may get as far as the mainland." Or, also: "Well, folks, we're sorry, but the ride you're on right now, 'It's a Small World Afterall', has broken down. The music will still go on for your enjoyment. We're looking at a delay of maybe four hours." This is just an observation I've made.
Well, folks. (you'll find this situation easier to bear.) It seems that, so far, I've only gotten an emence total of five votes in each category. All of these votes are for different things, though, so nobody can win. This demands that I must allow the survey to go on for the next month, until I get enough votes.
But hey, as one voter commented on my latest entry: "I have noticed a sever drop in cable companies intelegence." I'm sorry, voter, but it's funny. Unless, of course, it was supposed to be funny. In which case: Good Job! Ha!
Work is troubling, as any job. At least I work with dogs, cats, and their pooh. All of these things are easily more intelligent then any customer I've worked with, especially at McDonald's. My boss is an idiotic hypocrit, a lovely combination.
See, the dog kennel that I work at is attatched to the owner's house. My boss, the owner's son, doesn't want anyone else to run the office, or answer the door, or sit, or breathe. He, however, the man who can answer the door, etc. Decides to hang out in the house and fall asleep in front of the TV. Therefore, if a customer arrives (the door is locked, so no dogs get away by accident) I must answer the door, because he is too brain-dead to wake up (he gets PAID for this.). The real problem arises, when, by some miracle, he DOES wake up, and he finds me assuming he's asleep and answering the doorbell. He calls me a bad worker (he's too used to dogs.) and goes back to sleep. I get paid diddly-squat to deal with this. Maybe I should tell his dad. Maybe I should fall asleep. I don't know.
But hey, as my cousin (yes. the SAME cousin as last entry.) said as he picked up a leaf on a hike: "Is this poison ivy?" Wow. My family is full of Irish Einsteins like this.
Eddy the dog is doing fine. His favorite fetch toy is the wiffle ball bat. To see the humor in this, picture a 20-pound black lab puppy with a three-foot bat in his mouth. He trips often. He's about twice the size of Silvia the rat/dog (she's a poodle.). She's still the dominant one, though.
I love irony.
"...and she's buying a stairway to heaven..."
Thank You.
And, to my waves of adoring fans waving lighters in the air, you have a tax extention, exept for voting. Also, look out for customers.
Well, folks. (you'll find this situation easier to bear.) It seems that, so far, I've only gotten an emence total of five votes in each category. All of these votes are for different things, though, so nobody can win. This demands that I must allow the survey to go on for the next month, until I get enough votes.
But hey, as one voter commented on my latest entry: "I have noticed a sever drop in cable companies intelegence." I'm sorry, voter, but it's funny. Unless, of course, it was supposed to be funny. In which case: Good Job! Ha!
Work is troubling, as any job. At least I work with dogs, cats, and their pooh. All of these things are easily more intelligent then any customer I've worked with, especially at McDonald's. My boss is an idiotic hypocrit, a lovely combination.
See, the dog kennel that I work at is attatched to the owner's house. My boss, the owner's son, doesn't want anyone else to run the office, or answer the door, or sit, or breathe. He, however, the man who can answer the door, etc. Decides to hang out in the house and fall asleep in front of the TV. Therefore, if a customer arrives (the door is locked, so no dogs get away by accident) I must answer the door, because he is too brain-dead to wake up (he gets PAID for this.). The real problem arises, when, by some miracle, he DOES wake up, and he finds me assuming he's asleep and answering the doorbell. He calls me a bad worker (he's too used to dogs.) and goes back to sleep. I get paid diddly-squat to deal with this. Maybe I should tell his dad. Maybe I should fall asleep. I don't know.
But hey, as my cousin (yes. the SAME cousin as last entry.) said as he picked up a leaf on a hike: "Is this poison ivy?" Wow. My family is full of Irish Einsteins like this.
Eddy the dog is doing fine. His favorite fetch toy is the wiffle ball bat. To see the humor in this, picture a 20-pound black lab puppy with a three-foot bat in his mouth. He trips often. He's about twice the size of Silvia the rat/dog (she's a poodle.). She's still the dominant one, though.
I love irony.
"...and she's buying a stairway to heaven..."
Thank You.
And, to my waves of adoring fans waving lighters in the air, you have a tax extention, exept for voting. Also, look out for customers.