Wobbled into to CanTire today to pick up 8 litres of paint, two brushes and a scraper. Reaching the check-out I was greeted with, “hows she goin, eh? Gez yez doen sum paintin eh” - all said in one sentence on the intake of breath.
“No”, says I, “I am building a frigging battleship you great lumbering, inbred, mouth breathing, knuckle dragging, slobbering, pathetic dolt.”
(blush) - no, I did not say it - but I did think it. Time to return to an air conditioned room.
09 Aug 2003 at 11:48 am | #
I know what you mean, eh.
Yesturday evening I was over at the main house chatting with my friend/landlady as is the early evening habit. She said I seemed ‘bothered’ and what is that about… Well, I told her, spitting bile and all manner of other super-heated expressiveness, whereas where some of it congealed on the floor, it melted through to the basement much like the blood of the “Alien”. Though she let it go by without much comment, it prompted me to apologise to her this morning, not for the content of my tirade, but the quality of delivery.
Cooler and/or dryer weather will be welcomed.