The Sales Department is hosting a mid-day fiesta. There are tortilla chips and gaucamole, plus buckets of salsa, in the big conference room.
There are seven large frat-boys wearing sombreros wandering about.
There are full-strength margaritas.
Brain-freeze time. With limes and a blender.
And there is loud music. Very loud mariachi music.
The working day is over. At least for half of the company. Ole, rabbosai, ole.
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GRUMPY MAN AT DAWN
Sometimes you wake up with a hecka chonker. And you wonder "what is this odd indentation here, and why does it smell fishy?" Then ...
8 comments:
Frat boys, sombreros, tequila?
Sounds like Tijuana whore house to me.
What field are you in?
---Grant Patel
Where is Spiros this morning? Is he still sleeping off the ouzo?
Hellooooo, Greeky man, hellooooooo!!!???
---Grant Patel
Sorry, Argentinian.
'Ellooooo, Argentinky, hellooooooo!!!???
---Grant Patel
Remember that scene in THE EXORCIST? Had I been drinking tequila and eating guacamole, that scene would have been vividly recreated for you in Glorious Technicolor (and, dare I say, Smell-a-Round).
Guess you'd fill up that coffin pretty well. Tequila expands barf exponentially.
Sheer buckets of fun.
Wombat.
---Grant Patel
No more anyone can add to this comment string. The bucket is full. Too much tequila. Not enough Brazilian.
---Gratn Patel
Turtle soup.
---Grant Patel
Dear Gratin Patel-
I have nothing to add.
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