My Day

I was having the kind of day where you discover that your webhost hasn’t uploaded the five photos you have to give them to upload because they believe that you are too stupid to do it yourself, nevermind that kids on that MySpace do it all the time, and it’s been a month.

But then something happened.

I don’t know what.

I got in the elevator and it was like a weight lifted and so, even though I spent all day wanting to just hide under my desk, now I’m in a great mood.

10 thoughts on “My Day

  1. Well… yeah… Okay, I guess that might be the reason.

    Ha. My new boss today said she had “Southern Fried Brain.” I think I may have that as well.

  2. If you start each day eating a live frog, it only gets better from that point, forward.

    If no live frogs are available, watching five minutes of a Tivo’d Bill O’Reilly will work as a substitute.

  3. Well, I think Bridgett is probably right, but you could also investigate the possibility that elevators have suddenly started making you euphoric.

  4. You mean the pretzels I brought from my own house and dipped in chocolate that I bought with my own money?

    Oh no! I can’t believe I dared take some back!

    Women, weep for poor Mack. Take him to your ample bosoms and stroke his hair while you comfort him during this time of great loss. Nestle him in the crooks of your arms and wipe his tears with your softest hankies.

  5. Hey, Mack, I’ve been trying to decide which bra to wear for when it’s my turn to take you to my ample bosom and comfort you in your time of pretzel loss and I wonder, do you prefer good support or frilly lace?

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