London Calling
In a fit of last minute panic by the managing partner, I was added to the "London team" yesterday, and fly out today at 6:30 p.m. Why was I called up at the 11th hour, you ask? No doubt for my superior drinking, bar-fighting and soccer-mobbing skills--all critical to surviving in England.
And I was Captain of the U.S. Olympic Cricket team.
Not really. But if the U.S. had an Olympic Cricket team, I'd probably make Captain for sure.
Cheers Mates!
And thanks sweet Amy, for being so understanding and not killing my boss. I know it took a ton of self-restraint to not come charging into the office wielding a post-hole digger (or whatever other potentially deadly implement you could have grabbed in the garage on your way to the car) when you got the news.
You're the best!
posted by Hubbard @ 10:45 AM
4 Spoke Up!
4 Comments:
On my way through the garage, I realized that I do not own a post-hole digger and may not be able to afford one for quite some time. So....reluctantly decided to spare your boss for the time being as he is the means to his own end.
Who needs a post-hole digger? You guys have forks in the kitchen, as we regular visitors to this space know quite well. Grab one of those, pop it through his epiglottis, wiggle it around a bit....
Not a bad plan. Or you could get Max to use his fork-bending powers to mangle some part of his body. Hmmm...I wonder which part you'd choose to have telepathically deformed?...
Um...... his little toe? Seriously, he'll never play golf again. Cuz he goes back- and just stays there. He'll be pushing everything off to the right. He'll quit the game.
Post a Comment
<< Home