To: NicknamedBob
Don’t waste your roses and violets on “oftwerk”; save your inspiration for the new little Corpseling, arriving this evening (central time).
419 posted on
05/02/2007 3:48:47 PM PDT by
Tax-chick
("And he had turned the Prime Minister's teacup into a gerbil.")
To: Tax-chick; Dead Corpse
Ohyah! A Corpseling! WOO-HOO! (You coined a new word, TC!)
420 posted on
05/02/2007 5:13:35 PM PDT by
Monkey Face
(Twenty years ago, I started out with nothing and still have most of it left.)
To: Tax-chick
Oftwerk
The problem, as I see it, is the way the day starts out,
I mean, youre sleeping soundly, and then you hear a shout.
Stupid darn alarm clock! A ghostly presence ... pale ...
Until some inner demon fires up its siren wail.
Oh, what a way to wake up. Who could smile to face the day?
When nerves are jangled at first light, even rainbows turn out gray.
And then you trudge out gamely. You persevere once more,
Go back six times for things that you forgot while at the door.
While gulping coffee madly, and scarfing down a snack,
Youre petting kids and kissing dogs as you keep running back.
To dash out to the driveway, gallumphing like a jerk,
Its seeyalater, outtahere, and then its oftwerk.
NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . May 2, 2007
428 posted on
05/02/2007 6:59:29 PM PDT by
NicknamedBob
(I know where I have gone wrong, and I can cite it, chapter and verse.)
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