Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Thursday, January 08, 2004

Oh, I DO get a chuckle, alright...

You know the guy I have talked about before--the one who couldn't figure out how to do a table in MSWord, the guy who talks to me while I'm standing at the urinal, the guy who drops his pants all the way to the floor while standing in the middle of the restroom just to tuck in his shirt, the guy who thinks everything he says is an absolute LAFF RIOT--that guy?

Well, he just came bumbling in here with the newspaper from sometime last week with the article about 2003's Big Stories. There's a picture of some rock singer all bent over backwards with a microphone. (Hold on a minute--he's in here again, rummaging through all the stuff on my drafting table...LEAVE ALREADY! Better now) He shows me the paper and in his best impression of a fading comedian on the Catskills circuit, points to the picture and says, "Hey, you see what we have to do to get a raise around here!"

::crickets chirping::

You must also remember that he carries around his tiny little heart right there on his sleeve, and if you ignore his moronicity and lame humor, he pouts like a spoiled baby and gets his tiny little feeling (sing.) hurt. "Boy, you don't get a chuckle out of anything, do you." Awww.

"Now, come on, Moron Man--I DO get a chuckle every once in a while."

What he could not know was that I was about to explode inside trying not to laugh.

For Moron Man, you see, has had a thick head of gray hair for the entire eight years I have been here but he returned from the Christmas holidays with a thick head of Medium Ash Blonde #17 hair. Seems his loving wife and children had treated him to a day at the spa as a present.

It's like watching the old Mary Tyler Moore Show episode when Ted dyed his hair black.

And it makes me chuckle.

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