Friday With the Wango Tango

Put your feet up, grab some liquid refreshment and make yourself comfy while we get caught up on all the news worth repeating from Frog Pond Holler.

Around town:

The streets are still lined with tourists and hikers here in the holler, but there seems to be fewer this year. I'm not complaining, mind you. It's a pain in the butt to have to eat up 15 minutes of your lunch hour waiting for traffic when you can almost see your house from work, so fewer people means less aggravation for me. I'm sure the businesses in town aren't too thrilled though.

There's a new sandwich shop in town, with quesadilla, French dips and Greek salads. The Amazon has been stopping there often, one can only take so many hamburgers and greasy fries. It's nice to have an alternative.

Down at the spa, they've put up pretty, new, rustic looking gates at the entrance, with the words "World Famous" written in the scroll work. They've done alot of landscaping too, adding pretty flowers and little shrubs all around the campground store. It looks like they're getting old Frog Pond spiffed up for something. If I ever find out what, ya'll will be the first to know.

Here at the Asylum:

Bossman showed his little Yankee ass the other day, pitching a cussing fit and threatening to rip the head off little old Henny Penny over in accounting, then offering to "shit down her neck." He said all this to me, then went in his office, slammed the door and called her. I can only imagine what he said to her. Afterwards, he stomped up and down the hall, cussing and mumbling and jerking all over like he was gonna bust an artery.

He was mad because she used the company name our tax ID number is registered to and not what he wants the company name to be on a W-9.

No.. seriously. That's what he was having a freak out fit over.

Henny Penny's boss, the Big Headed German, is pissed. He is also the CEO's Golden Child. I have a feeling there's gonna be some waste matter hitting the fan when the GM gets back from Myrtle Beach.

And it's gonna splatter.

After lunch that day, Bossman's attitude had completely changed. He even laughed and joked around with everyone. His entire personality had done a 180° turn.

Then I got close to him while reviewing a print. And I smelled it.

Booze. Liquor. Firewater. Hooch.

Bossman was lit like a sailor on a three day pass.

Oh. My. Damn.

Things are fixin' to get hairy up in here. Hold on to your hats. I'll keep you posted.

Meanwhile, back at the trailer:

Ma seems to be doing okay. She was a little shook up over Dubya. They grew up together and were close to the same age. Considering her recent health scare, I think it rattled her cage a bit.

Over at the Dubya estate, Hoochie and Flossie have been seen avoiding each other, running in and out of the tiny gray house with an assortment of grand youngins milling about. I've seen at least three truck loads of trash go out of there, but you still can't see the porch.

The not-so-tiny psycho kitty is at the vet as I write this. Her appointment was this week, not last week. The Amazon just called from Scary Hillbilly Town to inform me that the kitty is having laser surgery, instead of the traditional slice and dice.

Who'd a thunk it?

Anywho..

I've been sick as a dog for the past few days. My gut's been doing the wango tango. I'll spare you the details... just buy stock in Charmin. I sat here yesterday alternately breaking out in a cold sweat, freezing my booty off then threatening to start peeling clothes. I got home last night with every intention of trying to fix the couch, but instead of fixing it, I curled up and went to sleep for two hours.

I've definitely picked up something buggy. I hope it's not the hamthrax. I'd hate to have to call in sick when I'm finally getting to work some decent hours.

I'm gonna go now and file some stuff. We don't want Bossman leaving anymore letters on my desk.

Ya'll have an awesometastic Friday!

Later Taters.