Fran's Advert

From Black Books:

"Thirty-something woman seeks solvent man for sex and possible friendship, sense of humour irrelevant."

This ad mirrors my own...

Zombie

Not too long ago Fr. Michael was humming a dreadful song in a high pitched voice and said to me, "This girl I knew in high school liked those Irish girls who squawked in the 90s." I asked, "The Corrs?" Then he sang some more and I figured out that he was singing Zombie by The Cranberries. I asked if that's who he was thinking and Michael said, "Yes! Oh they were the worst." I then admitted that I loved that group when I was in high school. "Oh really?! Their voices were horrible. I mean, Liza, what poor defenseless creature of the rain forest is being strangled to death on that song? It sounds like tropical birds dying." Ouch.

For Reals

Back in the Aisle days when I first started working with Joe AKA Gluegen Schlagen, we were working the pallets and putting stuff on shelves. I noticed Gluegs putting all the varieties of Bone Sucking Sauce in one clump. I pulled him aside in the aisle and told him how to read the tags and showed him the teeny tiny print on each jar. When I pointed out the different varieties his response of, "Are you serious?" was met with my, "I'm as serious as an erection problem." This was the moment when we bonded. Gluegs inhaled sharply and said, "That's pretty god damn serious." You're damn right it is.

Divas

At Laine's house the other day us gals were discussing celebrities and who we fancy. I said that Tom Cruise was a chest shaving weasel and I think it was Randall who said that she didn't care for Tom Cruise or Mel Gibson. That's when Laine stated, "Those two should get married." Right on cue, Epiphany said, "Can you imagine the diva cunt fit in that house?" Good lord, I don't even want to entertain that thought for an instant.

Oh Lord...

Sunday afternoon I stopped over with my Mum to see Nana. The two ladies were discussing that day's Sunday Morning with Charles Osgood. Apparently it was about John Wayne, or John Wayne's son. Anyway, I walked back into the room just as they were trying to remember The Duke's son's name. My grandmother struggled to recall it and said, "Was it Sean, Satan, Shane...." Satan? Yup, my nana seriously said Satan and my mother nearly peed her pants from laughing. By the way, his son's name was Ethan. Not anywhere near Sean or Satan or even Shane.