Find me on most of the social spaces as Mrs. Flinger
In an effort to launch something in a very short timeframe, after three months of coding in off hours for stints of a few minutes at a time, I used a framework to get *something* out. This is not code I would use for a client. Ever.
In fact, if you could see my face right now, you'd realize this is a little more than painful.
But, as sometimes has to happen with personal projects, the non-paying personal site takes a backseat to quality and gets dressed in handmedown code. Thanks to VMcore for the free ride here.
when he would get his pants. For although he wore superb hats, he was often forgetful about putting on his pants. He called his wife who was to bring them to him and….......
she told him that she would bring the pants. Of course, he forgot that his wife was also quite forgetful. And while on her way to deliver her adoring husband’s pants she was distracted by something shiny in the Macy’s window display. Ok so it wasn’t so much shiny as it was awesome. She immediately pulled over and parked her car, abandoning any and all thoughts of her husband’s pants. She walked right into the store and told the first sales clerk she saw that she absolutely had to have….
the man in the window. He was a Macy’s employee and after one look at him she suddenly decided that she was too good for a man who could not remember to wear pants on a regular basis. Surely this Macy’s employee never left home without pants, and maybe he even loaded dishes in the dishwasher at home. She dared to dream. So she ran to the window and…...
a cheeseburger. “But, ma’am,” said the first sales clerk, “this is Macy’s. I think you’re looking for McDonald’s.” The wife snapped back,“Not. I’m looking for my…
cheeseburger-dreamboat-man-candy from the window! She marched through the store with slightly annoyed salespeople trailing behind her. She was growing more and more anxious about this man/burger/pants confusion, but her scowl turned into a surprised smile when she saw…
that she had been temporarily insane when she thought she could get the guy in the window, since everybody knows that window dressers don’t like women. She was equally unlikely to find a cheeseburger in Macys, so she headed next door to . . .
McDonalds where she knew she *would* find a cheeseburger. A double at that! (She was a woman and therefore was more than allowed to change her mind.) And as she stepped up to place her order, she saw…
the guy from the window.
“I know you think I’m gay…but I’m not.”
“Can I buy you a Big Mac?” She asked….
that the McFlurries were on sale. “Hell,” she thought, “I’ve made it this far for a damn cheeseburger. I might as well blow my Zone on some faux ice cream.” She grabbed her sack from the pimply kid behind the counter and sashayed out. She stopped at the nearest picnic bench, devoured the greasy burger, licked her lips in preparation for dessert and looked up sheepishly just in time to see her ex-boyfriend from ten years ago smirking down at her. Damn her pantsless husband. This was all his fault.
If she had known how forgetful he was, she never would have broken off the affair with her ex-boyfriend. They could have continued on for years and, if her husband had ever caught them, he would have forgotten about it immediately. If only her ex was pantless! If only ...
I could eat this Big Mac in peace without witnesses that might later spread the word about her unfortunate addiction the all-important beef tallow used in the french fry grease. She threw her burger on the ground with a prayer for all the local pigeons who suffered from high cholesterol…but who would nevertheless feast on the remains of her unhealthy dinner.
Meanwhile, the forgetful pantless man with superb hats decided that waiting 5 hrs for his wife to bring pants was way too long. Who really needs pants anyways? They are over-rated. So he left the pub and went on his merry way. As he continued skipping down the street, he stopped suddenly because he no longer remembered what he was so excited about. He ponder for 30 seconds and it came to him! He was so excited about..
...his Nagel collection. Oh, how those angular hairdos and bespectacled ladies of the eighties turned him on. Maybe, just maybe tonight was the night that he could finally sneak down to his secret print gallery and spent time with his Nagels. Suddenly, a sign caught his eye. It read?
... “Free Original Nagels if you can sing Duran Duran songs.” He was so excited he wet his boxer briefs. He hurried into the shop and called out into the empty room. No one replied, but music started to play. He started to sing…
but quickly realized that he DIDN’T actually know any Duran Duran songs! He gasped in horror at himself, and frantic not to miss this amazing opportunity, ran next door to the very conveniently located 80’s vintage record store. There, through the window, he spied on the counter…
two dancing elves. He scratched his head and wondered why in THE hell there were elves dancing on the counter. This was not the first time he’s witnessed such an oddity, he thought back to the time when…
he was younger, and the garden gnomes, and the christmas elves, and the easter bunny, and the toothfairy all danced the macarena in his kitchen while the wizard of oz fixed him margeritas…
and then he snapped out of it.
I’m having an acid flashback, he thought to himself. It was then that he realized that wetting himself was, unfortunately, not part of this drug-induced flashback and he’d be needing a new pair of boxer briefs, along with his pants.
He reached in his man bag and grabbed his cell. With trembling fingers (because he was trying to keep the beat to ‘Hungry Like the Wolf,’) he diales his wife’s number . . .
before forgetting just who it was he was calling. He looked up and caught his reflection in the window.
“Oh no!” he thought, realizing the feather on his snazzy hat had wilted. “I must get me a new hat!”
Looking down, he shook his head, wondering who’s phone he’d borrowed. He handed it to the sales girl behind the counter and…
...she gave him a puzzled look.
“Sir…we dont’ sell cell phones here. I can’t exchange or…”
“Blast exchanging it. I just want you to tell me what it says! Whose it is! Who I am! Because honestly, I can’t for the life of me remember who the hell I am right now!” He panted, looking around the shop for something familiar.
“Sir, please calm down. You know…” she looked at him sideways, “I think I’ve seen you in here before. You were the gentleman who caused that great big ruckus when we wouldn’t sell that woman with you the last of our…”
“Miss Pennigat!” Shouted what appeared to be a supervisor. The woman’s eyes grew large and she looked down, excusing herself the back.
He watched her leave in desperation, scanning the room for anyone that might know him, to no avail.
The manager quietly picked up a phone and dialed. He turned away from the man and whispered into the phone.
“He’s here. Yes, just like you said he would be. I don’t think so. Yes. Yes, I will. He’ll be here. Okay then.”
He set the phone down and walked toward the man, staring at him intently with clear, frightened blue eyes and…
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