Sorry, I can’t elaborate on the source of my rage. If you’re a co-worker, I’ll gladly share. Otherwise, it’s going to have to wait.
I wish I had one of those veins in my forehead in order to serve as a visual red flag that you should keep me away from chairs.
Where’s that chair? So help me, I need a chair now.
FUCK! That’s all I’ve got to say. Son a bitch! Damn it, damn it, damn it! I’m about ready to do a Ballmer.
Also, making half the difference his father made.
Excellent presentation. I plan to spend my life earning the sort of stirring sentiments that Barry Goldwater Jr. paid to his father.
I’m sitting diagonally from one bizarrely-dressed lady. Glittery American flag hat, animal print blouse, weird fur boots, and blue eyeliner.
It is an odd mix of legislators, public policy types, gray hairs, and the occasional weirdo.
At the Goldwater Institute for a presentation by John Dean and Barry Goldwater Jr. on their new book, Pure Goldwater.