Sent today on an email – my duty to share and hopefully cheer you up on this crappy damp windy Friday…
These are from a book called Disorder in the American Courts and are
things people actually said in court, word for word, taken down and
published by court reporters that had the torment of staying calm
while the exchanges were taking place:
ATTORNEY: What was the first thing your husband said to you that morning?
WITNESS: He said, ‘Where am I, Cathy?’
ATTORNEY: And why did that upset you?
WITNESS: My name is Susan!
ATTORNEY: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
WITNESS: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.
ATTORNEY: Are you sexually active?
WITNESS: No, I just lie there.
You can’t get Wendy Burgers in the UK. ‘OMG!’ I hear you yell at your PC/Laptop/Mobile Device. No Wendy Burgers. No square burgerage.
I’ve always been intrigued as to why Wendy Burgers are square. Something to do with the production process. Maybe it’s because the way they cook means more succulence.
Or is it because cheese slices are square? But that doesn’t make sense; the burger baps are as round in a Wendy Burger as they are from a MacDonald’s.
I needed answers. Straight to wikipedia; the ultimate repository of useless information. Wendy’s was created by Dave Thomas in 1969. And the reason for the geometrically-even burger shape? Because he ate one somewhere else and liked it.
First thing you need are these:
These are a pair of hands of a child (you might want to keep them attached to the relevant child, preferably your own).
In this wonderful Isle we aren’t allowed to shop before 11am or after 5pm on Sundays (except in little shops for some wierd reason) – even on the day before Christmas Eve.
The only person I know who still goes to church is my mother, and, given the rapture, armageddon, doomsday (call it what you will) didn’t come to pass two days ago, i doubt whether many people will be swapping a trip to the local supermarket for a session on their knees praising the almighty.
Anyway, obviously today is going to be hell on earth for those foolhardy enough to venture out. Of course there are some who have no choice. Like me. I needed brussel sprouts and I needed the ingredients for Pigs-In-Blankets – two essential Christmas meal items.
I’d been awake since about 3am since our opposite-neighbours introduced us to the concept of 24 hour daylight with their latest festive lighting arrangement (it’s getting more outrageous each year), so by 10am I was getting bored has hell:
My wife is a qualified accountant. I am a qualified blagger. Nevertheless early morning starts are a great leveller. No matter what your intellect, the bleary-eyed semi-dawn of an Autumnal 6am start can play tricks with the mind – especially when you are hunting through the pantry for something to eat for lunch at work.
My wife found a tin of tomato soup in the back of the cupboard, and off she went. Come lunch time she dug her tin out of her handbag and headed for the canteen microwave, only to find she had this: