Wednesday, May 10, 2017

I am starting to settle down with my desire to smoke a cigarette that hit me when I jumped Sunday. 

Some people are a pain in the ass when it comes to texting. They either write the entire Gettysburg address or play the I gotta have the last word game.

Texts are supposed to be short and to the point. A sample exchange might be like this.

Meeting me at 9030 tomorrow?


And that's about it.

Lately I have been ending texts that require no answer with the word 'out'. 

Meeting me at 0900 tomorrow?

Yes. Out.

It means I know what to do. You don't have to retext me and remind me to wear shoes or a jacket because I can see outside there's four feet of snow on the ground and it's -6 out.

I will be at the appointed place at the appointed time in the appointed uniform and unless you want something else out of me there is no need to retext.  

To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY

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