Even this shall pass away
Have you guys heard the new Robert Plant?
(Paulette- your Ironweed project is getting burned tommorow, mailed Monday. Would you like this, too?)
I cannot even begin to communicate honestly in this venue.
But I can summarize.
My friend, Quagmire, flew in on Super Bowl Sunday. My dad went to the Super Bowl, offered me a ticket, I said no, had things to tend to here. My friend is flying in.
My dad went, me and Quagmire watched it at my house and had a serious manhug.
Stanette had cooked a really nice meal.
That night, it snowed a SHITLOAD.
We rode on Monday, it was superduperbadass. Knee-high pow, hitting you in the face with every turn. I wiped out getting out of the hot tub, twisted my ankle and skidded into a metal coat rack, upon which we hang the bathrobes, and gouge my ankle.
It looked like a murder scene. For a bit, we thought I may have hit an artery. Quagmire is a doctor, so he grabbed my foot and capped that gusher.
Yikes.
So, I go to work, make some money, talk to my therapist, come home, eat a nice dinner that Stanette made, check my work email...
And lo and behold, there is an email from accounting, telling me I need to write a check for $ 7690 because they fucked up my withholding.
$ 7690.
Could you just bust out a check with no notice for $ 7690?
Needless to say, I did not go to work today.
That is bullshit.
I went snowboarding.
Working for corporate America sucks.
(Paulette- your Ironweed project is getting burned tommorow, mailed Monday. Would you like this, too?)
I cannot even begin to communicate honestly in this venue.
But I can summarize.
My friend, Quagmire, flew in on Super Bowl Sunday. My dad went to the Super Bowl, offered me a ticket, I said no, had things to tend to here. My friend is flying in.
My dad went, me and Quagmire watched it at my house and had a serious manhug.
Stanette had cooked a really nice meal.
That night, it snowed a SHITLOAD.
We rode on Monday, it was superduperbadass. Knee-high pow, hitting you in the face with every turn. I wiped out getting out of the hot tub, twisted my ankle and skidded into a metal coat rack, upon which we hang the bathrobes, and gouge my ankle.
It looked like a murder scene. For a bit, we thought I may have hit an artery. Quagmire is a doctor, so he grabbed my foot and capped that gusher.
Yikes.
So, I go to work, make some money, talk to my therapist, come home, eat a nice dinner that Stanette made, check my work email...
And lo and behold, there is an email from accounting, telling me I need to write a check for $ 7690 because they fucked up my withholding.
$ 7690.
Could you just bust out a check with no notice for $ 7690?
Needless to say, I did not go to work today.
That is bullshit.
I went snowboarding.
Working for corporate America sucks.
posted by Joe at
1:10 AM
4 Comments:
Sorry about your ankle. Glad the injury didn't interfere with snowboarding tho. Sure, I'd love a copy of BOJ too. Thanks much.
?????????
You could have gone to the Super Bowl and you didn't? I'm confused. You did realize the Packers were playing, right?
I'm with P--glad the ankle didn't keep you from doing what you love! I'd ask you to send some of that snow this way, but then the neighbors will hate me.
Jesus Christ. That check is a grand more than I've paid for any car I've ever had.
Today my therapist told me (yes, therapists have therapists) "You always play to your audience but the problem is right now your audience is up on stage with you and they need to get back down in their seats where they belong."
Feel free to borrow that.
As I'm reading this I'm thinking Quagmire, Quagmire, which friend is that? Not the park ranger, not the neighbor/bandmate, not the cat from wine country. The name sounds familiar, but who the hell is Quagmire? And then you said he was a doctor and I was all like, Bingo! I remember when he was in med school and had a blog!
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