Once again, she asked me if we should try moving the couch to the other side of the room, and once again I refused. For one, my back was killing me. For two, if we moved that couch away from the TV, it would expose my secret underground tunnel to the center of the earth…and NO ONE MUST KNOW!
If you want to make guests comfortable when they come over to visit, buy a reclining chair. If you want to make guests uncomfortable when they come over to visit, walk around naked and talk about how “Hitler wasn’t all bad.”
I think my footstool is just about the best invention of all time. Because it may just be a glorified block of wood, but after a long day at the office, nothing beats the relaxation I feel after sitting down, taking a deep breath, and throwing that little guy through a plate-glass window.
It was difficult communicating with the chief. I would draw images in the dirt and he would do his best to guess what I was trying to say. In the end though, the communication barrier proved too great, and we finished the Pictionary tournament in last place.
The cheeseburger seemed like a good idea at the time, but now my stomach had me thinking otherwise. I couldn’t let on I was hurting though, because I didn’t want to give Sharon the satisfaction. This isn’t the first time she’s warned me about eating food I’ve found sitting on the side of the road.
“Do you know why I pulled you over?” the cop said as I handed him my driver’s license. “Actually, no,” I replied. “Damn it. I was hoping one of us would,” he maligned as he handed back my license and reluctantly trudged back to his car.
The Latin music was a nice diversion, but after about 30 minutes of it, it was time to switch back to my usual classic rock. So I pulled over to the side of the road and asked the mariachi band pile out onto the median.