Books. Bikes. Boomsticks.
"Hige sceal þe heardra, heorte þe cenre, mod sceal þe mare, þe ure mægen lytlað…"
Guy calls in to work, tells the boss He won't be in. Boss demands an reason. Guy says he came down with a severe case of anal glaucoma. Boss says what's that? Guy says, Well, I just can't see my ass coming in today.
Can I assume that, by seeing two blog entries since 8/31, that the second phone call about your grandpa didn't come and that he'll be sticking around a bit longer? I hope you give us some good news. I, for one, am hanging by the seat of my pants.
Another one of the many reasons why I don't jog.
Killer Willard - Boxing Kangaroo.
He shoulda' had a gun. Doesn't everyone jog with a gun? Well, a shambok then...db
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