Earlier today, I had a Smoo colleague over for lunch, and she was wowed by my leftovers. Later in the afternoon, I came home and made dinner for one:
My pants, pictured above, also said the meal looked "fine-ass." My shirt (visible at bottom of pic) nodded its agreement.
Be happy: above, you see the shrimp fettucine alfredo I made. Note the abundance of shrimp and sauce: the noodles, surprisingly coy, are pulling a Hoffa.
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3 comments:
My Father negotiated a lot of contracts w/ Hoffa. He was on the other side of the table, but said that while Hoffa was a son of a bitch, once he agreed to something you could count on it - unlike a lot of other teamster leaders before and since. Years later, when asked where he thought Hoffa was he would discount the widely held belief that he was encased in the concrete on one of the support pillars of the stadium in the meadowlands; his own jocular theory was that if one scraped the make-up off Tammy Fay Baker, there he'd be.
So you are saying that you took your pants off for your colleague and had lunch?
Reading comprehension was never one of my strong points.
Corsair-- precisely. Guests appreciate my sense of hospitality. There's always a reason to take one's pants off.
Sperwer-- heh. I remember hearing the Tammy Faye line some years back.
Kevin
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