Not a writer by trade, no. I am getting the same scale as everyone here, I guess... a certain number of Sorosmolians per post, to be paid at some future date, redeemable for some kind of future rewards, yes? Farmville vegetables or something? I think that's how it works.
If it&#039;s any consolation, I did that while performing my legitimate gainful employment moving stacks of paper in orderly fashion from one side of my desk to another, so I did <i>technically</i> get compensated for doing it.
That beats my comparable story: our family knew a prominent lawyer (he was a nice enough guy, grew up poor) and his spoiled brat daughter. She came home after her college graduation, and regaled us with a story of how she had been caught speeding within our city limits, had been pulled over and the officer saw her license, KNEW WHO SHE WAS AND STILL GAVE HER THE TICKET. Apparently the routine was supposed to be &quot;so and so&#039;s daughter? never mind&quot;. The response to the story was dead silence, but only on the outside.
He chuckled. Then he guffawed. He tilted his head back and let fly his very practiced, manicured laugh, letting it ring longer than he ever did in any of his many country clubs. His laughter continued clanging off the walls of the small diner. He finished by pounding the table with his rubber glove, upsetting several coffee cups as the silence seemed to slowly creep back in. Strangers turned, cooks and dishwashers glanced nervously out of their short order window.
Then the eight people gathered around him, who had just finished talking about strategies of finding employment in a slow-to-recover economy, chuckled uncomfortably into their collars, each struggling to avoid all eye contact.
Then the group shuffled out onto the street as Mitt swept out, and all were seen weeping real tears as he left. These tears were most assuredly entirely from joy at being in his magnificent presence, and not from the choking exhaust fumes, or thick pall of bleak depression that roiled around them as he roared off in his limousine.
Not a writer by trade, no. I am getting the same scale as everyone here, I guess... a certain number of Sorosmolians per post, to be paid at some future date, redeemable for some kind of future rewards, yes? Farmville vegetables or something? I think that&#039;s how it works.
If it&#039;s any consolation, I did that while performing my legitimate gainful employment moving stacks of paper in orderly fashion from one side of my desk to another, so I did <i>technically</i> get compensated for doing it.
That beats my comparable story: our family knew a prominent lawyer (he was a nice enough guy, grew up poor) and his spoiled brat daughter. She came home after her college graduation, and regaled us with a story of how she had been caught speeding within our city limits, had been pulled over and the officer saw her license, KNEW WHO SHE WAS AND STILL GAVE HER THE TICKET. Apparently the routine was supposed to be &quot;so and so&#039;s daughter? never mind&quot;. The response to the story was dead silence, but only on the outside.
He chuckled. Then he guffawed. He tilted his head back and let fly his very practiced, manicured laugh, letting it ring longer than he ever did in any of his many country clubs. His laughter continued clanging off the walls of the small diner. He finished by pounding the table with his rubber glove, upsetting several coffee cups as the silence seemed to slowly creep back in. Strangers turned, cooks and dishwashers glanced nervously out of their short order window.
Then the eight people gathered around him, who had just finished talking about strategies of finding employment in a slow-to-recover economy, chuckled uncomfortably into their collars, each struggling to avoid all eye contact.
Then the group shuffled out onto the street as Mitt swept out, and all were seen weeping real tears as he left. These tears were most assuredly entirely from joy at being in his magnificent presence, and not from the choking exhaust fumes, or thick pall of bleak depression that roiled around them as he roared off in his limousine.
if my check engine light came on yesterday, would that be covered?
probably not and i am very poor right now.
i bought a slightly used one in &#039;06 for $15K.
and now i am poor and can&#039;t afford to keep her in the lifestyle she is accustomed to...
With a side of santorum.
&quot;It&rsquo;s the &ldquo;can you believe the nerve of this motherfucking cracker&rdquo; variety.&quot;
This implies he spoke to non-crackers? Maybe he&#039;s he&#039;s cool with The Blacks and I missed that sound bite.
needz moar witchcraft. lotz moar.
If we Americans had any sense of moral outrage, the glares alone would have sliced that silver-spooned motherfucker to deli shreds.
So Mittens vision for America is rich and unemployed. I like it!
Get used to it, Mittens.
Hot coffee in his crotch would have been appropriate.
This is why candidates now have G Men protection.
It&#039;s not &quot;gay&quot; if you get paid, right?
Heh, funnily enough I just got the Last Payment on my Extended Benefits today. When does Gov. Mittsey get HIS cutoff date?