Bunk

Our kitty, Nancy, has fleas. We had to buy medicine. I still say she was raped yesterday. At the very least, molested. I think a full scale investigation should be launched. But what if our boy cat Sid is a suspect? He sure has taken a lot of naps lately. Hmmm...

Monday and Tuesday I felt like it was Wednesday. I'm glad tomorrow is Wednesday, so I can feel it correctly. But then maybe tomorrow I will feel like it's Thursday or Friday? Crap.

I've already confessed this to Mrs. Leslie, so it should be safe to blog about at this point...

There is a woman at work that is very attractive. So much so that it throws me off my normal natural smoothness course when she comes around. I always manage to jumble my words, say something stupid, or just plain act mildly retarded when she is speaking to me.

So the other day I stop in the restroom for a quick #1. Drop trow, get seated, and then I hear high heels enter the room and go into the stall RIGHT NEXT TO ME. Now I know that this woman ALWAYS wears high heels, and I immediately think to myself that there is no way in hell that this could be her. But what if it is?

I have two Starbucks Verona's in my bladder screaming to get out, but the thought is freezing me up. It's quiet. Too quiet. She isn't peeing either, so that means we are both suffering at this point. I'm doing all I can...picturing Niagra Falls, etc. Basically praying for someone to come in and turn the sink on, when I finally hear this person next to me start to pee.

About half way through I relax enough to go. By the time I'm finished this person is out washing her hands. I exit the stall, and who is there? Yep, her. No way! Yes, way.

We make small talk, which I botch, and leave the restroom forever knowing that we caused each other pee-ers anxiety.

Where was the Golden Avenger when I needed her? One motorized scooter ram into the stall door and I would have been able to do nothing BUT pee. Oh well, serves me right for paying attention to anyone other that the Mrs.