Honesty In Typing

So, here's my gift to you: honesty in typing. Whatever coes out I'm just going to let it sit there and be a testimony to the need for my anal retentive drafting. Already, I went back to edit part of that sentence. Maybe I can't even greewrite anymore? I'm an editing MACHING! I hope this is adding your hilarity. 'To your hilarity of the morning, that is. I feel like I'm at a nudist colony, only to discover that everyone else is still wearing turtlenecks and twills.

Here's a random tidbit: I clearly remember the first time I heard the word "Chateau." I was just a kid, and we were watching some charley brown special on tv. they said it several times and I remember being so struck by it, and not being terribly sure what it meant at first. thus began a love affair with hoity toity words that would last a lifetime. "By the time she was an octogenarian, J'Non would have gratuitously worked in the words "multitudinous" "nefarious" "polysyllabic" and "sesquipidalianistic" (not to mention "octogenarian") in more than one missive to unsuspecting friends. She also developed an unhealthy addiction to Boggle, but after several trips to rehab, she gave up on her dream to be free of those lettered fetters that bound her... She was buried with her original Boggle set (not the gold-plated version, which was pretty to look at but which lacked the sentimental value of the original)."

YES!!! I started editing mid-paragraph ago! I JUST CAN'T DO IT!!! I am shamed... This must be what it feels like to try and quit smoking. Where's my nicorette for over-drafters?

Memo: TPS Reports Due Today

Today is "have some fresh donuts on us and forget about the things you don't like about us here at the office" day. I already had breakfast, but I still accepted when one was offered me and I inhaled 3/4 of it with an ease that borders on absurdity. I know it will make me feel like crap in about 10 minutes, yet still I take bites between sentences. As I chew the final bite placidly, I realize that my armpit itches slightly because I forgot to apply deodorant this morning. I don't have a spare with me. This does not bode well for the other occupants of the building, but neither does the recent inhalation of aforementioned donut).

(Note: This was written back when I was working in the "corporate world." Now, if I forget my deodorant, I just walk into the bathroom and apply liberally).

Chickenesque

With half of her forearm uncomfortably inside the chicken, J'Non realized with sudden clarity why it was people preferred to buy disjoined chicken.

Several minutes before:
Once the attractively concealing blue package was removed from the body, she narrowed her eyes at the opening in the back of the chicken. "I think I remember that sometimes there are parts in there" she mused, and gamely thrust in a hand to see if the poultry cave was occupied. Indeed, there were several cold and squishy occupants of questionable identity, some of which were helpfully detached from the main carcass. These were dispensed with quickly, accompanied by an almost imperceptible curl of her upper lip.

Upon embarking on another sweep, she found with some alarm that several of the aforementioned unidentified squishy chicken objects seemed to be attached somehow. Breathing an audible "Ugh," she pulled firmly at the USCO's until several released, albeit sullenly. With a slight shiver, she widened the opening just enough to scan the interior for any recalcitrant that might remain. Indeed, something whitish and bean-shaped clung doggedly to the cavity. Just what it might be, she didn't know, but it certainly looked like an organ. Maybe even a lobe. She shuddered at the thought. Steeling her own bean-shaped organs, she reached in and squeezed with all her might to extract it. It fought mightily for so small a warrior, but it ultimately fell upon its fallen brethren, into that special hades for the bean-shaped and whitish.

And that is why people pay 3 prices for boneless, skinless chicken.