My office.
I think the ladies at work are trying to tell me something. Today, I noticed a spray can of air freshener in my bathroom.
I went to the DMV yesterday and waited in line behind a Polish man who was applying for a driver’s license. He walked over to the eye test and the DMV employee held up a card with the letters, ” C Z W I X N O S T A C Z.”
“Can you read this?” the employee asked.
“Read it? Hell, I know the guy.”
Yeah, yeah, it’s an old one. Thanks Tom d G for the email.
I know this girl, Sydney, who manages a popular restaurant in St. Louis. Earlier this summer, the restaurant hosted a VIP Party for a local professional athlete. She stopped by the table to make sure everything was alright, and as she walked away, the guy asked, “Do you know who I am?”
Sydney replied, “No. I’m sorry, I don’t.”
A few minutes went by, and then it hit her. She rushed back to the table and said, “You’re the guy from the Imo’s commercials.” Everyone at the table, except the athlete, erupted in laughter.
It was Tory Holt, wide receiver for the St. Louis Rams. What a douche.
Today’s post is weak, I know. All of my energy went into my fantasy football draft.
Lloyd, I need you to pack up all of my shit and throw it in a box. I don’t care if you find a used condom, an executioner’s mask, and a spike paddle. Just pack that bitch. Chop Suey.
Benny
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