Sweet Smells... Super Sweet, Man!

You know...  I often complain about life in the ghetto, but sometimes things are that bad.  They can actually be pretty sweet. 

I have a few co-workers that really make life  here in the ghetto bearable.  I don't know what I would do here without them. 

There's Linda for example.  Linda came in this morning while I was covering the reception desk, and let out some gas.  At first, I felt horrible for her.  Poor Linda is gassy and just farted in front of me.  Poor Linda--she must be so embarrassed-what should I say?  Should I say anything.  If you know Linda-you know she has a joke up her sleeve-in this case, she had a fart remote in her hand, the the fart machine in her pocket.  Linda has been "farting" all over the office; shocking fellow co-workers throughout the day.  You got to love her. 

(It's never too early for Christmas shopping?  What youngster wouldn't want to find this in their stocking?!)

Then there is Jennifer.  Jennifer is as beautiful as she is sweet.  She is always bringing sweet things to eat; and I must say; she makes the best cup cakes and cakes I've ever tasted.  Well today, she brought in a chocolate fountain, fruit, cookies, candy, marshmellows, and another bundt cake in honor of the two co-workers that are leaving the department this month.  She went all out.  Unfortunately my friend Maria (who is leaving) is not here to enjoy this.  Oh, the smell of chocolate is everywhere.  There really isn't a better smell; and I haven't had any of it.  Just the smell of it makes me happy.  I've had strawberries--that is it.  I'm trying to diet; but it's hard with Jennifer around. 

  I want one of these for my next party!

Well now, Linda has hidden her fart machine behind the chocolate fountain.  Each time someone comes to the fountain for a treat, she clicks her remote, and suddenly, the unexpected visitor hears a fart sound.  It is the funniest thing...I'm dying here. 

These pictures have nothing to do with this entry, but I thought I would share them anyway:

I don't know who this poor fellow is, but I'm sure he wasn't seriously hurt; although, I don't see a rope around the bull, so he may have.  Word to the wise:  Don't get a bull angry at you.  You will be gored, and you will not like it.  My ex-husband got gored once.  He was talking to some girl sitting on a wall, and he wasn't paying attention, and a bull got him.  (I think alcohol was involved.)  Well, this happened a few years before he met me, and I cannot tell you how many times he proudly recounted the story.  He actually kept the blood stained shirt from the incident, and cherished it like it was a trophy of some kind.  I don't understand it--it's one of those "macho man" rites of passage I suppose. 

More words to the wise:  Always wear underwear!  I don't care if  you are afraid of those panty lines guys---it just isn't worth it.  Hasn't your mother ever told you the importance of clean underwear?  What if you are in an accident, or you run into a bull, and you have no underwear on?!  In the words of my own mother:  Ai meu Deus! Toma vergonha rapaz!

Call me a total weirdo, but I went out last night and bought myself a carpet steamer!  Now I'm all excited to clean my carpets!  Whhooohhoo!!