The Middle Half

The Middle Half

Hey! Friends! Do you all read this anymore? I only send it out every like… well it’s hard to even pretend to find a quote to day ratio, but you get my point. Why do I have people coming up to me asking how I melted my cell phone? That was my super idiot story of 2006 and apparently some of you are too cool/busy/illiterate to read it. Maybe it’s just so memorable to me because every time I go to open the oven, there’s a picture of a cell phone with a big red diagonal line through it. And then there’s a picture of a brownie with a big green circle around it. I really need to get a computer at home.

Yeah, so anyway, I melted my phone. Which means I melted all your numbers along with it. So I can’t call any of you anymore. Except for Mike, my mom and Papa Johns in Arbutus. Those are the only phone numbers I have committed to memory. And yet I still have the same phone number. I didn’t melt my cell phone plan in the oven, Jill. So here is my favor I need to ask of you. CALL ME! Or write me with your phone number if you don’t need to/have time to/ever really want to talk to me. Or else I’ll never be able to get a hold of you. Which will probably be fine for everybody who circled the last part of that last sentence.

OK, I have a lot of crap to tell you all about but I’m going to keep this one short because of the importance of the phone number thing and I don’t want anybody intimidated by my length (heh). So this thing comes from a nut job that works in our office who used to be a football coach at school here. Apparently he was cursing out the computer and printer and everything else that couldn’t defend itself because the middle part of his document (the part he needed) didn’t print out. He storms into my office in a befuddled mess holding two pieces of paper three feet apart and asking me why a printer would do such a thing…

Quote of the Day 6/21/06

“You see, it printed out the top half, and it printed out the bottom half, but why didn’t it print out the middle half?”

-Wak-Man

I had to explain to him the definition of the word “half.” I still don’t think he understands.

One and a half times the average man,

Wordsmith.

Still Standing Right Here…

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