You can’t just go talking about ANY memories with ANYone.
The little tyke would likely be upset a bit by some of Mr. Cranky’s memories of Gladys as a young lady.
“Lady”
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I think Clem sees the strong position he’s negotiating from.
Do you suppose that the blank stare is better than burning eye contact when talking salary? On the other hand, you don’t have to put up with the blank stare or the burning eye contact of the prospective boss if you can’t see those looks… and it’s his fault in the first place that you can’t see those looks.
Of course, doing simple things like making phone calls might get tricky. Maybe the prospective boss would be kind enough to help you out with that! Maybe he’d look up the number for a lawyer or two for you while you’re in the hospital and have gauze over your chemically burned eyes. What a nice guy.
I’ve never been one for Feng Shui myownself.
I live happiest in my studio and it looks like a landfill, so…
I’m not sure there are many retail places that fall into Bob’s aesthetic. And the ones that do are mostly in areas where there’s an astronomical range of disposable incomes. Rodeo drive retail. Fifth Avenue. Union Square. Anyplace in Dubai, I guess. Very few places that sell tent pegs and life jackets for dogs.
Looks like Ms. Gladys Cravettes has had a good influence on Mr. Cranky. Look! He has a yard in which to do yard work!
Will this mean that Mr. Cranky will stop living in an underground bunker? Will he rejoin the suburban humans rather than being a subterranean human?
Will the sight of helicopters make him think of traffic news rather than international wetwork military assassins?
Let’s hope not. He’s more fun when he’s convinced that drones can read his mind and that the fact that the university he attended still has his name on file means that the sociology department is keeping biannual tabs on his (and other people’s) life progress for inclusion in a database to be used to turn humanity into the mammalian version of an ant colony. Hilarious.
David could probably tell you what footwear would be suitable for an afternoon round of golf versus a morning tee time, and variations based on weather.
It’s just that the idea of various footwear for doing anything Paste does is a little beyond him.
He also couldn’t pick out a good pair of deer hunting boots if you bet him a substantial amount of money and gave him five choices to pick from.
I’m having a tough time picturing David skateboarding happily.
Determinedly, yes. Focused, yes. Injured, probably.
But not “Happily”.
And that’s a shame. It’s something you should do happily.
Poor Bob.
He probably doesn’t mind at all, but he’s gone from a surfer dude, to being a competition ringer at the first Fest and thereby a momentary Sportsmart employee, thence to a OGS employee, to a house-sitter, to a flunky for an egomaniac with a budget… while being a house-sitter again. It can’t be a calming turn of fortune. Fortunately, Bob supplies his own calm. ‘Til he’s crushed under a kid flyin’ around on a skateboard.
Bob’s my hero.
Kara and Steve are such a cute couple, don’t you think?
Kara’s all energetic and driven, and Steven is… about to be crushed under that.
Adorable.
That must be some wicked kinda list, don’t you think?
When your lawyer wants to be able to say that he advised you against his own ideas, there’s a disconnect in there somewhere.
I think it might be in Dusty’s conscience, but that’s just a guess.
Bob is such a good salesman… it’s like he’s in touch with the customers’ thoughts!
Heaven knows he’s not burdened with a lot of his own.
