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Bruce, Caroline


Now, what I'm about to say is null and void if I dont get this new job. There are no guarantees I will, so it would be unwise of me to make assumptions. But, for the sake of the fact that a disclaimer with every sentence would be rather tedious, let's just assume I'm getting it, with the knowledge that I know that I may not. Get the job, that is. So here goes.

I just got this really nice chair at work. It really is a nice chair. Nice and large, soft, comfortable. If I ever get a secretary I'd be happy to have her on my lap on this chair. Providing she was the right secretary. But we're not talking about secretaries, we're talking, I think about ... um, oh yeah, the chair. I have no secretaries, you see, so talking about them in all but the most speculative of senses would be a bit of a space-waster. Kind of like most of this posting so far, come to think of it. Oh well, I can't delete what I've already written, can I? Okay, so I can, but that would take too much work. I mean, two whole extra keystrokes? For a couch potato like me, uh-uh. so I'll just keep what I've written so far. Which leads me back to my original topic, my chair.

So, as I've said, it's a nice chair. Really it is. Adjustable, really cool. And I'm sure the color's great. Anyway, if I get this new job, the chair won't come with me. What then? Maybe I could buy it, or maybe a new chair just like it. Then money comes into play. Anyone know of an adopt-a-chair foundation for poor chairpeople like myself? I mean, this chair likes me. It has my buttprints right on it. Okay, so I'm being a little cheeky. But this chair just screams "Bruce, bruce, Bruce", and no other chair-sitter could possibly do this chair justice! I can't leave it alone in the big, wide world! It wouldn't be right, it wouldn't be fair to the chair, I daresay, so there!


Can I be your secretary? Hugs!
You're on. HUGS
I wish.