Please tell him about how you ran a red light but managed to avoid driving 70 mph into a stopped pickup truck. I was away on business and missed it.
9 comments:
Ian Cameron, PhD
said...
Aww(gh).
I think what Toby really needs right now is some Unwarranted Flak.
"Toby, I think you are a bad driver. He's a little young for you, isn't he? I'll say it again for the people in the back. You have aged one year in the past 365 days and your Frisbee Glory Days are far behind you."
T : "AUGGHH!" (triggers incredibly dull midlife crisis story arc)
Now now, there there, don't you worry your pretty little head about a thing. I'm sure it's unimportant. Now run off and prepare me a cocktail, and I will tell you about the events of my day.
Toby: I am now, Ian. Now that you're here and I can tell you about my day for the next five or six hours before I start dinner.
Ian: Oh... Well, now, Lass, I think that might have to wait. I'm just running out again.
Toby: Running out? Where to?
Ian: Well, umm; I have to go to a meeting. Yes, well, not actually a meeting. But a seminar. Oh, well, maybe not a seminar. But I need to get the oil changed.. Wait! My dentist called... Wait, it wasn't actually my dentist, but a friend of my dentist whose mother died... Um.. Why don't you fix yourself a drink while I...
Toby: YES! A drink! Two; maybe three? Yes; yes; yes!
As Toby runs into the room that was once a living room but is now referred to as the "bar' and pours herself a few (gorilla sized) fingers of vodka, Ian makes his escape and runs downs the hall to bang on Mary's door.
Ian: Mary, Mary, for the love of all things saintly, can you help me?
Mary: Well, how nice to see you, Ian. Yet, you seem a might tad agitated. What could possibly be wrong?
Ian: It's Toby! She's shown up after work tonight with some woman thing. Problem. Thing. Womanish thing... You know... She's looking womanishy; needy; womanly... You need to help!
Mary: What's wrong with her?
Ian: How the hell would I know? That's why I'm here you insufferable &*$%#@#" hag! Just get over there, will you? For crying out loud, why else do I pay you these ever increasing condo fees for? And bring some of your bran muffins. Yes, bran. That's womanly, right?
Sandi Ego: Nothing wrong with being a wee lass. At my tallest I was about the same height as Toulouse-Lautrec, and I have gotten even better by losing a few inches in the past decade or so. Unfortunately, not even the excellent quality of being short can save Toby from being unbearable.
I just realized we're still on Thursday. It took four days just to get to Ian and Toby opening a bottle of wine. I guess the speed of the plot is what passes for suspenseful buildup. And yes, HelenClark, Ian appears to be in need of Mary's rescuing him with a nice tuna casserole and whatever muffins go with wine.
9 comments:
Aww(gh).
I think what Toby really needs right now is some Unwarranted Flak.
"Toby, I think you are a bad driver. He's a little young for you, isn't he? I'll say it again for the people in the back. You have aged one year in the past 365 days and your Frisbee Glory Days are far behind you."
T : "AUGGHH!" (triggers incredibly dull midlife crisis story arc)
Good golly, does today’s panel one point to Ian as the hobo collecting cans for recycling? (I realize that was a loonngg time ago.)
Oops, I meant today’s panel TWO - sorry.
I don’t know KitKat. I think Ian looks like an 8th grader dressed to play Abe Lincoln? Thomas Edison? Colonel Sanders? In the school play.
Also, sorry to say, homeless people collecting cans isn’t a thing of the past in my home town. Sorry, I know it’s not funny or blog appropriate.
Toby is a really wee lass, isn't she?
Now now, there there, don't you worry your pretty little head about a thing. I'm sure it's unimportant. Now run off and prepare me a cocktail, and I will tell you about the events of my day.
-- Scottie McW.
Toby: I am now, Ian. Now that you're here and I can tell you about my day for the next five or six hours before I start dinner.
Ian: Oh... Well, now, Lass, I think that might have to wait. I'm just running out again.
Toby: Running out? Where to?
Ian: Well, umm; I have to go to a meeting. Yes, well, not actually a meeting. But a seminar. Oh, well, maybe not a seminar. But I need to get the oil changed.. Wait! My dentist called... Wait, it wasn't actually my dentist, but a friend of my dentist whose mother died... Um.. Why don't you fix yourself a drink while I...
Toby: YES! A drink! Two; maybe three? Yes; yes; yes!
As Toby runs into the room that was once a living room but is now referred to as the "bar' and pours herself a few (gorilla sized) fingers of vodka, Ian makes his escape and runs downs the hall to bang on Mary's door.
Ian: Mary, Mary, for the love of all things saintly, can you help me?
Mary: Well, how nice to see you, Ian. Yet, you seem a might tad agitated. What could possibly be wrong?
Ian: It's Toby! She's shown up after work tonight with some woman thing. Problem. Thing. Womanish thing... You know... She's looking womanishy; needy; womanly... You need to help!
Mary: What's wrong with her?
Ian: How the hell would I know? That's why I'm here you insufferable &*$%#@#" hag! Just get over there, will you? For crying out loud, why else do I pay you these ever increasing condo fees for? And bring some of your bran muffins. Yes, bran. That's womanly, right?
HelenClark
Sandi Ego: Nothing wrong with being a wee lass. At my tallest I was about the same height as Toulouse-Lautrec, and I have gotten even better by losing a few inches in the past decade or so. Unfortunately, not even the excellent quality of being short can save Toby from being unbearable.
I just realized we're still on Thursday. It took four days just to get to Ian and Toby opening a bottle of wine. I guess the speed of the plot is what passes for suspenseful buildup. And yes, HelenClark, Ian appears to be in need of Mary's rescuing him with a nice tuna casserole and whatever muffins go with wine.
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