You are currently browsing the monthly archive for November 2006.
Indeed! I did a naughty thing just now. Well at lunch really.
I met girlie mate for lunch today and when I was in the loo, sitting happily on the bog whistling to the tune of several martini’s, she slipped something in my purse. Luckily she drove so I was happily deposited back to the seventh level of hell (aka the office) and when I opened my purse and reached for lipstick, I noticed an odd smell.
An odd smell, yet a familiar odd smell.
Christ on a bike…it’s half a bone! (for all you young ‘uns, bone=joint) ((no, NOT boner you cow, bone))
So, as you can imagine I rushed home from work, slammed the front door, closed the shutters, turned off all the lights and sparked it up.
Holy shite I am loaded.
The lesson here, gentleman and women….one should not make international phone calls to The Viking when intoxicated, no matter the substance. It applies not only to drunks, but to out of touch, too old to care, unhappily employed by Satan, wanna be 3o again old hippies who still know how to get it on.
Also, one should not blog.
Yep.
Not blog.
Right.
Note to self.
