Friday, December 16, 2005

fuck me!*

I was all set to write this really really funny** post about how women of a certain age end up with hideous Christmas sweatshirts (you know, the ones that look like Santa had explosive diarreah all over a red background?) and how men of a certain age end up with Cosby sweaters (not to be confused with one of my fave (yet usually absent) bloggers, the Cosby Sweater), but then Bossman decided that he wanted to do some disturbingly early Spring cleaning and assigned me to the closet where old office supplies, vendor brochures, hunting equipment (?) and giant cockroaches go to die. So if you need me, I'll be in the back of the closet, gingerly picking through dusty stuff and praying that nothing jumps out and makes me scream my best girly scream, why not go re-read my column here***.

* that was an exclamation, not an offer, but thanks for asking, I'm flattered, really.

** okay, mildly amusing at best

*** self-promote much? Yeah, I do.