Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Why Hippies Hate Meetings

I put on eyeliner and the good bra. I got there at 11:20, looked down, realized all I can see is the tits. Lifted them out of the way and saw I had something on my shirt. Went to the bathroom and got as much as I could off. Came back out. Nobody. 11:30--I see the Professor walking by. I call her and harass her. "I can't see you," she says. I feel like a stalker, a very lame stalker. 11:40--I call the person I'm supposed to meet with. Yep, the meeting is at 12:15. And that, my friends, is an hour of my life I'll never get back.

4 Comments:

Blogger Aunt B said...

Peg, you made me laugh so hard that I'm making you queen of all blogdom for the day.

2/01/2006 02:41:00 PM  
Blogger Peggasus said...

Yea, but they shall know thee by thy boob-freckle.

So saith the Lord.

2/01/2006 02:42:00 PM  
Blogger Aunt B said...

Wow, that was weird. I posted after you, but snuck in before you.

2/01/2006 02:50:00 PM  
Blogger the Professor said...

I didn't find it lame - I found it rather disturbing. And, considering the height you had on me, I fear that you are secretly finished with those gun lessons and have become a sniper taking aim at 21st Ave passers-by.

2/01/2006 05:10:00 PM  

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