When my girlfriend is feeling chipper, I get more affection. When she’s depressed, my pharmaceutical portfolio gets bullish. The conflict of interest is killing me.
The walls of my cubicle look like a Magic Eye. Since I’ve never been good at these puzzles, I can’t tell what the message says. It’s either “Big dreams, hard work, and a little bit of luck will pay major dividends” or “Go hang yourself.”
My grandmother’s mantra is “Never wish ill on anyone.” Comments like that remind me that she’s from a pre-Rachel Ray generation.
In an effort to cut costs during the economic downturn, I was planning to bring my lunch to work instead of eating out. My idea was shot to hell, however, when I saw how much a hip flask costs.
Even though my male intuition demands that facebook quizzes are absurd, I've given in to the temptation on occasion. After three attempts, however, I decided to call it quits, since having "You are most like Miranda" posted on my wall was way too embarrassing. I'm definitely more like Charlotte.
1 comments:
You had me at Rachel Ray.
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