On Friday last week, I was sitting at home reading my Daily Telegraph news on this internet after a hard day at the orifice. Glass of wine (large) in one hand and typing with the other. All of a sudden, I heard some roosters outside start to warble. I thought I'd fixed those bastards months ago when I called Animal Control on their poultry assess. Obviously not, otherwise I would have been hearing silence. Anyway, I heard the roosters and got upset, stood up too quickly and whacked the top of my bald palatial acreage on the underside of the armoir within which my laptop is located. The result is a large, Gorbachev-like dark gash across the top of my head which contrasts strongly with the pink color that is my undamaged flesh.
One of the people in my office today remarked, "Oh Bubba .....", (I'm known as "Bubba" to my hommies), "..... what on earth did you do to your Pink Little Dome ?".
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2 comments:
The fact that she calls him "Bubba" is even funnier when you hear his "fah fah" accent...
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