Those who know me very, very well will understand exactly why I did a Whiteshoes dance all the way up Grand Street after an hour with nice little Jorge at H&R Block. I don't want to be gross, but I understand why Miss Kitty does a lambkin frolic after spending 10 minutes in the big open box of poop and weewee (hey, that's Dave Barry's name for it, not mine!)
Now I'm back home and have rewarded myself with a beer. Unfortunately I just realized that it's a non-alcoholic Beck's. And I ask myself, as I'm sure you're asking, how the HELL did that get into my refrigerator?
I'm sooooo tempted to crack that bottle of Dom that one of my vendors gave me for Christmas.
No comments:
Post a Comment