Thursday, June 03, 2004
Clay Pots (and Other Assorted Tax Dodges)
Just got back from Roland Garros and boy is my face red. (Wow, I . . . I do apologize. Right out of the gate, too. No time for anyone to prepare. Goodness. I suppose I could blame the four cases of merlot, but as we/they say in Paris, that'll be 5,000 francs Misseur Lewis.)
Upon my return: Everything in my office had been rearranged and painted coffee filter orange, save for the green tea bags, which I knowingly faxed to my broker before I left (less caffeine means a lower commission--I'm saving already!). Let's be clear: My partner is both shameful and shameless at the same time (void where prohibited). Once I was in Civil Brand for six years, and I came back to find that he'd laminated my paralegal. (I'm not paying that temp $55 an hour just to spinal flex! That type of effort is worth $40 an hour, tops. Besides, who will run my wagers over to the OTB?). Were it not for the fact that my partner won back my favorite plastic binder ($11.50 on sale. On sale! I tells ya the Plastics Council rules the Free Masons, who in turn command the Rose Bowl Committee, who in turn run a mighty fine parade with a modestly priced after-brunch) in a fixed game of hold 'em (is there any other kind?), I would take my pre-moistened clasp envelopes and saunter elsewhere. But as it stands, the rent is paid through the month, so I may as well relax and dream of meatless Fridays (I believe their next disc drops on the 8th).
Anyone seen my 6-iron?
Posted by Pierre du Pop at 1:20 PM