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Friday, March 02, 2007


Half an hour ago, I was busy preparing pork slices to be marinated for tonight's dinner. The phone rings, I answer it. It's one of those cordless thingy so I do what I always do when talking on the phone - stand in front of our huge front window. This means I can see the passerbys and they me.

Our street's really quiet so we only get neighbours walking their babies/kids, dogs or big rats like chihuahuas. Or we get the postman on his rounds or people delivering catalogues and junk mail.

So I'm talking to my husband and one such person, a boy in his late teens comes up our walkway to push some flyers into our mail slot. He sees me, I see him. I give a polite smile and in return, I get a weird look, sort of like a wary stare. I'm thinking, what is it? Is my hair messy, or is it my clothes? What? What???

Then I look down....

.... and realise I was still clutching my huge Chinese cleaver! Fishballs! No wonder the poor fellow looked the way he did. I must've looked like some pyscho b***h threatening her next victim on the phone.

*keels over in laughter*

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The Dutchess of Cookalot whipped this up at 2:59 pm

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Comments:
Bwahahahahaha...I just have to laugh it out, poor chap.
 
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