Chuck Connors, Chocolate Ghosts and Chicken Little Wannabes

Hey ya'll!

I thought I'd take advantage of the brief pause in the Monday mayhem to get caught up on the goings on in the holler.

Here at the asylum, Bubbles has suddenly and without explanation hung two black and white pictures of "The Rifleman" in her cubicle. Lulu says there's one of an old country western singer too, complete with autograph. They look like they were printed off the internet. We've decided that one of her personalities must think she's the long lost illegitimate child of Chuck Connors. This is separate from the personality that taught her to smack gum like a street walkin' hooker and talk to her favorite customers like a 1-900 operator. There's also the bible thumping, holier than thou persona, who just wants to be fat n' sassy and please her man, as long as it doesn't include that dirty sex stuff, and who can't drive in Big City because she's too effin' delicate.

You gotta be on your toes to work in the cubicle next to Bubbles.

Oh yeah, she brought ANOTHER big az bucket o' candy the other day. I might be able to get a picture of those later, if I get to feeling all stealthy and cat like before the day's over.

The layoff rumblings have begun again. Management suggested that we take some extra days off while it was still voluntary. We're free to use vacation time. I've been thinking about taking off to wash my walls and clean the carpet anyway. Now's as good a time as any. Of course, Thelma, Louise and Bubbles jumped all over the suggestion and by the time they got done putting their own special spin on the situation, they had us on the verge of shutting down and going on welfare.

I look at it this way. If they decide to lay us off, there's nothing we can do about it. Worrying yourself into a tizzy in the meantime isn't going to make it any better. This "the sky is falling" mentality isn't going to help anyone. If anything, it's going to get the rumor mill churning at warp speed, causing people to panic, tempers to flare and the general populous of Frog Pond Holler to get their panties in a wad.

I'm gonna need for some people to get a friggen grip already.

Sheesh.

I think I may slice up the leftover roast from last night, heat it in the frying pan, then smother it in a thin white gravy, allowing it to simmer, while I make some mac n' cheese and nuke up some green beans.

Whatcha all havin'?

Now I need to go work up this quote, so I can get us some bid'ness up in this place.

Ya'll be blessed.