Misunderstood
My other half rang a courier today to get a disc sent over to a client. The courier company asked what it was she was sending. "A computer disc", she said.
Half an hour later, 3 blokes in a van turned up. They looked a little disappointed to be handed a floppy disc: they were all prepared to shift a computer desk across London.
Have you been utterly misunderstood recently?
( , Thu 6 Oct 2005, 23:06)
My other half rang a courier today to get a disc sent over to a client. The courier company asked what it was she was sending. "A computer disc", she said.
Half an hour later, 3 blokes in a van turned up. They looked a little disappointed to be handed a floppy disc: they were all prepared to shift a computer desk across London.
Have you been utterly misunderstood recently?
( , Thu 6 Oct 2005, 23:06)
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Not me, Mrs. God
So there I was at Mrs God's, just home from work and relaxing. She had Radio 1 on, quite loudly, as was her wont. Suddenly, like an icicle piercing my heart, my mobile rings, with the ex-missus' name on the display. "****!" thinks I.
At this point occurs a misunderstanding. Mrs God shouted a helpful message of assistance from the kitchen. "Fair point!" I think, with a wry smile borrowed from James Bond.
I sort out something about would I look after little one with no notice nor thought about what I might have arranged by saying 'No.'
Then I return to the kitchen, where Mrs. God is lighting up one side of the world with her smile. "Good advice there, honey!" I observe.
Turns out that I'd misunderstood. She'd said "Turn the music off if you want." Not what I heard, which was "Tell that bitch to fuck off if you want."
How we laughed!
( , Tue 11 Oct 2005, 19:32, Reply)
So there I was at Mrs God's, just home from work and relaxing. She had Radio 1 on, quite loudly, as was her wont. Suddenly, like an icicle piercing my heart, my mobile rings, with the ex-missus' name on the display. "****!" thinks I.
At this point occurs a misunderstanding. Mrs God shouted a helpful message of assistance from the kitchen. "Fair point!" I think, with a wry smile borrowed from James Bond.
I sort out something about would I look after little one with no notice nor thought about what I might have arranged by saying 'No.'
Then I return to the kitchen, where Mrs. God is lighting up one side of the world with her smile. "Good advice there, honey!" I observe.
Turns out that I'd misunderstood. She'd said "Turn the music off if you want." Not what I heard, which was "Tell that bitch to fuck off if you want."
How we laughed!
( , Tue 11 Oct 2005, 19:32, Reply)
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