Assembled the garbage the other night and found myself with one large bag of refuse that wouldn’t fit into the garbage can. I lost a couple hours of sleep over it, but I was eventually able to drift off once the rye kicked in.
Woke the next morning and prepared to head off to work. As I stood in the driveway, I took a look next door and saw that they only had one small can of garbage at the curb and neither of their vehicles were present. I looked around to be sure no other neighbours were watching, said a couple Hail Mary’s and hastily tossed the bag by their driveway. I then got the hell outta there. Everything seems to have worked out just fine. I mean, everything worked out fine for me but the Baltic hooker I had stuffed into that bag might have quite a different tale to tell. A different tale indeed!
Stopped at Tim Horton’s on the way out of work. Ordered a bagel. Heard a reply that sounded like, “We don’t have any jelly.” Asked the chick to repeat it and it sounded the same. I said back, “You’re all out of jelly?” and she laughed and said, “We don’t have anything in the deli.” Listen toots, I’ll come by Monday around 6 o’clock. They’ll be a 50 cent tip in it for you if there’s a creamy bagel waiting for me and you’ve found a doctor to fix your sloppy yapper and shitty personality.
In related news, I’m trying a new Jamaican patty and pudding diet. Wish me luck!
And yes, that IS a bottle of Red Hot behind the tasty snack. No, it will NOT end up in the pudding. At least I don’t intend for it to end up there, but accidents do happen…