Pynchon

I've just spoken to Lorraine. She doesn't sound well at all. Again she has been to see the Doctor about her Uveitis, and they have doubled the strength of her medication. The Doctor has also told Lorraine that she might have to forget about going back to work in the short term. It's all going to depend on how quickly she responds to the treatment. This has worried Lorraine greatly. I think Lorraine feels her position at work, as we are very low on experienced staff, and on top of that Tina Noir will be off to Denver soon. Lorraine is worried that The Company will hold her being sick against her.

You know what I think? Fuck The Company. They can kiss her ass, right in the crack.

Lorraine is back home on Saturday. I will be picking her up from New Street station. Lorraine told me that she will be glad to get home and see me and that she loves me.

Me to. (Love her, that is.)

Fancy some more jokes? Of course you do.

One day, a man came home and was greeted by his wife dressed in a very sexy nightie.

"Tie me up", she purred, "and you can do anything that you want."

So, he tied her up and went golfing.

Or how about this one?

Marriage is a relationship in which one person is always right and the other is a husband.

Don't like that one? Try this.

A Polish immigrant went to the DMV to apply for a driver's license. First, of course, he had to take an eyesight test. The optician showed him a card with the letters: 'C Z W I X N O S T A C Z'.

"Can you read this?", said the optician.

"Read it?", the Polish guy replied. "The bastard owes me money".

I've also decided that this is a great song.



It's true. I really have nothing much to write about.

Labels: Illness, Lorraine, The Company