RickinNYC
DIS Veteran
- Joined
- Apr 22, 2003
- Messages
- 7,870
It's a busy time of year for me at work, seems everyone on the planet wants to volunteer this Christmas and help out our clients (homeless adults). Yay for us! It's a pretty awsome, heart welling feeling but boy, you volunteers wear a boy out! LOL!
Anyway, I got home from work around 8:30 last night, tired, hungry and just plain ol' pooped. Normally Joe greets me at the door, Bill bounding and hopping his doggie greetings, butt wagging to and fro with excitement (Bill not Joe). This time I got nothin'. No bounding or hopping, no "Hi honey", just nothing.
Curious, I tossed my briefcase on the couch, hung up my coat and kicked off my shoes. I walked through the apartment and saw light coming from the guest room. Whispered mumblings were uttered, I heard boxes being moved, the crackle of paper. As I walked down the hall, the mumblings became recognizable. "Bill, move your fat butt." "Get out of my way, I have to put this back." "Get your paw off the box." All whispered, all in hushed tones.
I stepped into the guest room and there's Bill, snuffling and sniffing at the pile of Christmas presents I had recently wrapped. And there was Joe, picking up each box, fumbling with it, holding it up to the light, grunting and moving on to the next one. Again, more fumbling, moving, shaking and grunting. Bill was happily moving from one box to the other, grunting his irritation that it wasn't a giant Beggin' Strip, or simply trying a box on for size in terms of a good sitting spot.
I leaned against the doorway and just watched the two buffoons, both of them clueless. Clearing my throat, Bill immediatley looked up from his perch on the largest of the boxes and bounded my way in greeting, his tongue lolling about, big rootbeer brown eyes sparkling, paws ready to smack into my... erm... parts. Joe, on the other hand, dropped the box he was bobbling around, shrieked LOUDLY like a little girl with ringlets, hands fluttering around his chest, cheeks turning a shade red brighter than a Christmas bow.
All I could do, upon seeing his embarrassment/utter horror at being busted, was laugh. Shaking my head I just left the two of them to put away the presents as I headed to the kitchen. Joe soon followed, his face still a bright crimson, babbling, "I was just... I mean... sorry... they're right there you know... I'm sorry... but... you mad?... THEYWERERIGHTTHEREANDIWANNAOPENPRESENTS!"
I just laughed and laughed and laughed, so hard that I thought I was going to pee a little. A 40 year old man who has quickly melted down into a six year old boy.
I told him NO.
Anyway, I got home from work around 8:30 last night, tired, hungry and just plain ol' pooped. Normally Joe greets me at the door, Bill bounding and hopping his doggie greetings, butt wagging to and fro with excitement (Bill not Joe). This time I got nothin'. No bounding or hopping, no "Hi honey", just nothing.
Curious, I tossed my briefcase on the couch, hung up my coat and kicked off my shoes. I walked through the apartment and saw light coming from the guest room. Whispered mumblings were uttered, I heard boxes being moved, the crackle of paper. As I walked down the hall, the mumblings became recognizable. "Bill, move your fat butt." "Get out of my way, I have to put this back." "Get your paw off the box." All whispered, all in hushed tones.
I stepped into the guest room and there's Bill, snuffling and sniffing at the pile of Christmas presents I had recently wrapped. And there was Joe, picking up each box, fumbling with it, holding it up to the light, grunting and moving on to the next one. Again, more fumbling, moving, shaking and grunting. Bill was happily moving from one box to the other, grunting his irritation that it wasn't a giant Beggin' Strip, or simply trying a box on for size in terms of a good sitting spot.
I leaned against the doorway and just watched the two buffoons, both of them clueless. Clearing my throat, Bill immediatley looked up from his perch on the largest of the boxes and bounded my way in greeting, his tongue lolling about, big rootbeer brown eyes sparkling, paws ready to smack into my... erm... parts. Joe, on the other hand, dropped the box he was bobbling around, shrieked LOUDLY like a little girl with ringlets, hands fluttering around his chest, cheeks turning a shade red brighter than a Christmas bow.
All I could do, upon seeing his embarrassment/utter horror at being busted, was laugh. Shaking my head I just left the two of them to put away the presents as I headed to the kitchen. Joe soon followed, his face still a bright crimson, babbling, "I was just... I mean... sorry... they're right there you know... I'm sorry... but... you mad?... THEYWERERIGHTTHEREANDIWANNAOPENPRESENTS!"
I just laughed and laughed and laughed, so hard that I thought I was going to pee a little. A 40 year old man who has quickly melted down into a six year old boy.
I told him NO.
Thank you, that made me giggle.



But it sure is fun, though isn't it?