No estan!

In a disturbing turn of events, my favorite pair of jeans have apparently run away. This is disturbing because I am not in the habit of letting my clothing develop sentience, for one thing, let alone stage active rebellion. I’d thought we were getting along great. I took them out to dinner, to the movies, dancing… I didn’t abuse them or drag them through mud, and always tried to keep spills to a minimum. Heck, I used the gentle cycle, dried on the knit cycle, and gave them nice scented dryer sheets! What else could they have asked for? I …

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whoa there.

There’s obviously something in this office that I’m completely missing out on. You know how sometimes, especially at parties, when you’re closing the door to one room as you’re entering another, if the room you’re leaving is particularly loud then the people in the room you’re entering will hear snatches of conversation and music leaking out before the door shuts? So a guy just walked out of the men’s bathroom, which is maybe four cubicles’ length down from me. Before the door slams shut behind him, I hear four guys in there singing, with a great amount of cheery gusto, …

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a conversation

“How many credit cards do you think they have? And like, what’s the limit on them?” “They probably have those cards with no limit.” “True. What are they gonna say? ‘Sorry, we don’t think you’re good for it’? I bet Lance charges the space trip to his American Express.” “The Russians don’t take American Express.” “But they *do* take Visa.”

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