Apparently
Dustin is no longer taking his duties seriously, (Foster, eighteen green
lumberjacks are chopping trees at fourteen hundred hours. Don't let the
pelicans dive.) So, I'll take it over.
I don't have a handball team, or a basketball team, or any team, and we most
certainly didn't play ZBT yesterday, my legs don't hurt, I'm not having girl
problems, and I don't have any late-night computer lab stories to tell. I'm not
working on any film projects, no dorms on campus have received mass amounts of
flowers from me, and I'm not introducing anyone new to the list. I wonder how
Dustin does it!
A bunch of friends and I were sitting around watching the usual Sunday night
television (right, there isn't any) and talking about the age-old man/woman
debate. The topic of sexual harassment came up, to which my friend Jason
offered his dilemma:
"Why is it when a man says dirty things to a woman, it's sexual harassment,
but when a woman says dirty things to a man, its $2.95 the first minute and
$1.99 each additional minute?"
Lady in red is dancing with me,
Lance
Todavia levanto aqui...
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