Ed from down in Accounting has started bugging me again. He's got this hobby-horse mounted on springs, and every so often he'll come bouncing right up to me while I'm working. Annoys the hell out of me, which explains the fly swatter. Whenever he stops, parks himself in my personal space, and begins bouncing, I stand up, face him, and swat my fly until he finally reverses and rolls off to somewhere else. And as a backup, I keep a small billy club under my desk.
I encountered a marshmallow-shaped mushroom deep in conversation about you with a mushroom-shaped marshmallow. I quietly tiptoed away after they giggled themselves to the point of self-wetting over your sex life. (It's all on Facebook now, for safe-keeping.)
If I could change one thing about myself, maybe I'd fall asleep face down in my soup less often, at least in public, on first dates.
Don't look now, but you're a real dipshit. Also unimpressive at it. My dead cat can do better.
Got my toad caught in a hole. While this may be a euphemism, it still hurts. Can't bear to look it in the feelers anymore.
Humid noodles. Hungry. Waiting for lunch. Six seconds to go, then the munchibeest migration begins, marking the start of eating season. Yum.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff+snorp@gmail.com
Me? Considering fungible fungi. Could I become a fungipus? Maybe, just maybe...
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
