Yesterday as I strolled down 8th ave past Madison Square Gardens I passed a tiny angelic child swinging its (gender was not confirmed) fists in a joyful and enthusiastic fashion. As I pasted the child punched me in the cooch. Or "mons" as my friend Megan tells me. Nothing was said or done, by any party.
Today I was at CompUSA (Whose jealous of my life? Everyone? Good.) bringing in a fried hard drive from my company for data recovery. I filled out all the paper work under my name: Phaea Crede this, Phaea Crede that, initials said PHC, signature was my own. And then came the time to pay for the service. I produced a credit card that said "Sandy Green" (my boss) clearly and handed it over with no hesitation. Signed the slip in the same exact Phaea Crede handwriting that now read Sandy Green, and was not arrested for fraud or thievery.
Fab.
1 comment:
pow! right in the pisser.
can you please send me your boss's credit card.
and a copy of your signature.
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