(no subject)

Ahh, I love when the answering machine messages get routed to the wrong people in my building- sometimes nature has a way of handing you giggles on a silver platter.

This past Monday I was checking my answering machine and got a message from a woman named Diane who was calling about her stallion. Apparently, they don't mail semen.

So anyway, Diane, I just wanted to let you know that you dialed the wrong number. And keep your semen to yourself, please. I haven't been around the stuff in years, and i'm not sure i want it Fedex'd to me now. I suppose i could unload it at the next office party, however.

Stepped into the shower this morning and stepped out with a big ol' crick in my neck. Oddly enough, i think it's fitting. It get me that nice hunchbacked quality that along with the white labcoat has turned me into a blonde Marty Feldman.

Yesh, masthter, I haf your solid waste bagged and ze hood all cleaned for you, sir!

What hump?

Yes, I play with hazardous chemical waste before 9 am so you don't have to, and it's only made me smarter, more aggressive.

Like the size of my knees, baby?

Oops, i hear the master calling! the master would not approve of LJ....

(Theme music, and....exit)