It's the watch I got for 330 Coke Rewards! Remember? Pretty snazzy, don't you think?
I'm in Queens and getting ready to take on tomorrow. I'm sleepy having filled up on brick oven pizza. My co-worker, D, and I road the bus to Forest Hills and spent a happy few hours wandering through the shops. We did find some post cards for our other co-worker, who has a quest to find the world's worst post cards:
I also found an Obama button, which I'm not 100% sure came from campaign central, but, hey, I can't get my hands on anything with his name on it for love nor money, so I'll take what I can get.
Besides, the back has a real, honest to God safety pin, so you know it's pure:
Well, kids, I'm off to bed. I'm going to finish reading this wacky book called The Matchmaker of Perigord, which has such delightful phrasings as:
Picking up the fork, the barber selected a piece of plump sausage for his first mouthful. But, as he went to spear it, he suddenly stopped and stared blankly for several minutes. Then, very slowly, he put down the empty fork. As he sat back, a warm fat tear slid down his corow's-feet, shot over a tiny scar, rattled over his stubble and came to an abrupt halt at the bottom of his chin where it hung quivering.
Lovely, isn't it?
In closing, I leave you with a kiss goodnight and a horse's patoot:
And, heck, how about a giraffe's patoot to seal the deal?
Peace out and more tomorrow!