|
|
|
� |
|
So, for days last week we got these calls. "Is Cory there?" "Nope, no Cory here." Over and over and over. Finally, I snapped when one poor schmo called three times in a row. "Where does Cory live?" I demanded. "Um, Virginia Beach." the caller stammered. Aha! Mystery solved; our exchange, with one number transposed, is a VB number. I suggested the alternative number to Caller Guy, who called me back later to tell me he'd reached Cory's answering machine at the number I suggested. Mystery solved. Later the same evening, I got a call from a guy trying to call home. "Wait!" I blurted. "Are you Cory?" "Uh, yeah," Cory said. "How did you know?" Turns out, Cory just moved, and still gets his phone number messed up. I suggested writing it on his hand with a Sharpie. Poor, dyslexic Cory. ********* Yesterday, I had a day where everything I touched broke, fell, or was otherwise screwed up, except for food. The eats were good, strangely enough, although I became bruised, battered, and befouled during preparation. ******* Still waiting to hear more from the heart doctor, who will fix my PFO with an Amplatzer septal occluder. This procedure will make me a tropical drink, as I will contain two little umbrellas. ***** Anybody heard from Blackbear? He seems to have vanished.... |
 
|
Random stuff