I have a great deal of distrust for people who overuse the words “folks” and “gang.” If these words are used in conjunction, such as “Hey gang, lemme tell you about the folks here tonight…” the urge to run away grows even stronger.
There is no code of ethics so stringent that it will not allow me to call my father at midnight to talk about a job that was really hard. What’s a minister for, after all…? It’s reassuring to know that I can talk to him and it is protected information…oh, and the fact that we have similar senses of humor and he can make me laugh when I’m bone and soul tired and want to pull out my hair and bash my head against the door doesn’t hurt a bit.
There is no clear way to interpret (without laughing) the following sentences: “I had to pass gas to have a cent in my pocket.” “I looked back (in reference to the aftermath of eating a first gen protein bar) and I had passed a wicker chair!” And finally, “We were so broke we couldn’t pay attention!”
Speaking of…a bit more math. One spoiled greyhound + one chicken leg quarter + 7 hours in the office – her brothers = Look Mommy What I Left You On The Floor!!
I’m sure there will be more…after all, it won’t be Sunday till I at least fall asleep…