missile-eh-knee

There's the thousand-hand dance.

Plus the fact that my client farted in my cubicle the other day. I like him very much, but I thought that was uncalled for. Perhaps most because it reminded me of the time a few yrs ago when I let loose a deadly blast in my office exactly 3 seconds before my boss walked in. She pretended not to notice anything, but if *my* eyes were watering, how must she have been feeling?

And while we're embarrassing ourselves:
Today I was driving to work with the CD player going, and caught myself imagining I was the star of a movie and this was the montage complete with soundtrack. As I looked out in various directions, I made appropriate facial gestures to convey that I was sexy, yet deep.

In conclusion, a quote from Sam:
Bulimia -- twice the taste, none of the calories...