Crisis
The vending machine, the beacon of light that I turn to on many a dragging afternoon, is barren. NOTHING in it. Not even the rogue bear claw or Little Debbie treat that's been in there since the Ford administration. Just row upon row of emptiness. And last week, same thing. I didn't report on it last week because I figured it would be restocked the next time I paid the machine a visit. Not so.
What am I going to do without the mid-afternoon snack?
Oh, cruel, cruel world!
Like a waterfall in slow motion, Part One
1 year ago
4 comments:
No Skittles? *horrified look*
What the HELL are you going to do? I would call HR...or the FBI...
Maybe pray to the Pius Overg?
It's a conspiracy!
Pinko-Commie-Bastards!
Can you fake a sudden illness? Call it "women's troubles" and make a run to the nearet convenience store for some life-restoring Ju-Ju Bees, Reese's PB Cups and ice cream.
At least you vending machine has not become the Meat Vendor like on that clever TV commerical. Raw pork chop anyone? Maybe this is a good time to cut the habit.
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