I do not have any blonde gifs!
Posted on 06/29/2002 7:54:27 AM PDT by Billie
I like that one. LOL!
Not a thing. Just being my own sweet self. : )
Well, you baaaaad boy, see that you continue being your 'own sweet self' or face the consequences.....LOL
The General will be monitoring your behavior....LOL
~ 1. Never give me work in the morning. Always wait until 4:00 and then bring it to me. The challenge of a deadline is refreshing.
2. If it's really a rush job, run in and interrupt me every 10 minutes to inquire how it's going. That helps. Even better, hover behind me, and advise me at every keystroke.
3. Always leave without telling anyone where you're going. It gives me a chance to be creative when someone asks where you are.
4. If my arms are full of papers, boxes, books, or supplies, don't open the door for me. I need to learn how to function as a paraplegic and opening doors with no arms is good training in case I should ever be injured and lose all use of my limbs.
5. If you give me more than one job to do, don't tell me which is priority. Then I can practice my psychic abilities.
6. Do your best to keep me late. I adore this office and really have nowhere to go or anything else to do. I have no life beyond work.
7. If a job I do pleases you, keep it a secret. If that gets out, it could mean a promotion...yikes!
8. If you don't like my work, tell everyone. I like my name to be popular in conversations. I was born to be whipped.
9. If you have special instructions for a job, don't write them down. In fact, save them until the job is almost done. No use confusing me with useful information.
10. Never introduce me to the people you're with. I have no right to know anything. In the corporate food chain, I am plankton. When you refer to them later, my shrewd deductions will identify them.
11. Tell me all your little problems. No one else has any, and it's nice to know someone is less fortunate. I especially like the story about having to pay so many taxes on the bonus check you received for being such a good manager.
12. Wait until my yearly review, and THEN tell me what my goals SHOULD have been. Give me a mediocre performance rating with a cost of living increase. I'm not here for the money anyway.
LOL! That's ok...
I probably wouldn't either. : )
:-) :-) You too, Louie. :-)
: )
Very good advice. I'll keep it in mind.
Waaaaaay back there. : )
I'm enjoying the 'ego food'. Slurp!
Not a thing. Just being my own sweet self. : ) Well, you baaaaad boy, see that you continue being your 'own sweet self'
or face the consequences.....LOL
You laugh but....I know you're serious. : (
The General will be monitoring your behavior....LOL
Yes ma'am, General, ma'am.
Er....could you give me a little 'ping' letting me know ahead of time?
I'll exchange my 'wolf' suit for my lamby suit. : )
Uh-oh! LOL!!
Well....one just might show up in your mail....someday. : )
I missed her too. Was she in the same corner you were hiding in earlier?....lol
Sunday in Afghanistan...and our soldiers did have an opportunity to worship.....
Under camouflage netting Army Chaplin Capt. Paul Madej, left, with the 101st Airborne Air Assault Division, bestows a special blessing to Sgt. 1st Class David Gonzalez with the 82nd Airborn Division from the Bronx, N.Y., during Catholic service at the Kandahar Air base outside Kandahar, Afghanistan Sunday, June 30, 2002. (AP Photo/Charles Rex Arbogast)
The Cookie Crumbles
As the elderly man lay dying in his bed, death's agony was suddenly pushed aside as he smelled the aroma of his favorite homemade chocolate chip cookies wafting up the stairs.
Gathering his remaining strength, he lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with intense concentration, supported himself down the stairs, gripping the railing with both hands. In labored breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing wide-eyed into the kitchen. There, spread out upon newspapers on the kitchen table were literally HUNDREDS of his favorite chocolate chip cookies! Was it heaven? Or, was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself toward the table, landing on his knees in a rumpled posture, one hand on the edge of the table. The aged and withered hand quiveringly made its way to a cookie near the edge of the table; feeling the warm soft dough actually made the pain of his bones subside for a moment. His parched lips parted; the wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his mouth; seemingly bringing him back to life. What, then, was this sudden stinging that caused his hand to recoil? He looked to see his wife, still holding the spatula she had just used to smack his hand.
"Stay out of those!" she said, "they're for the funeral."
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