Ybab was just carried screaming down the hall by the chupacabra. I told the chupacabra that the way to shut off the screaming is to sing “Let’s all go to the lobby, let’s all go to the lobby, let’s all go to the lobby to get ourselves a treat.” Why not, eh? It probably won’t work, but it will be funny.
I am exhausted from a round of “who has the paperwork?” with the mortgage vultures this morning. The answer: you do! You have it. Don’t you even think of faxing 134 pages to me, tree murderers.
Mr. H had never seen any lolcats. I can’t believe this. So I made him view some last night. He wanted to know why cats speak Engrish. Damned if I know. Could it be something along the lines of how dogs are bad at French? On another note, I received a brief written in lolcat recently.
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