Powderworks

I have a…no, not a dream. A job. It’s just wonderful how the different areas of your life take turns in becoming problematic. My current situation at work is very high on frustration and very low on satisfaction. Let me say that again, high on frustration and low on satisfaction. Admire the lack of adjectives and expletives in the former sentence, admire my restraint and moderation. Now excuse me while I go punch a wall. Thank you. (“Look ‘ma, no knuckles!”)

To all my Southern Chinese readers: I hear you don't get my "just phoque it" post. Look, don't worry about it. This one is really just for me and to me. Bridge expressing herself to the utmost capacity of her vocabulary proficiency.

Let's cheer up:

St Peter gets fed up with standing at the pearly gates and giving or denying access to Heaven. Jesus offers to take over. A man comes up to him.

"I'm looking for my son." he says.
"And who are you?" asks Jesus.
"I suppose I'm the closest thing he has to a Father." says the man.
"What do you do?" asks Jesus curiously.
"I suppose you could say I'm a carpenter" says the man.
“ Was your son really human?” asks Jesus eagerly.
“He was, but then again he wasn’t.”
"And does your son have holes in his hands and feet?" asks Jesus excitedly. The man looks up.
"He does!" shouts the man.
"DADDY!" shouts Jesus.
"PINNOCHIO!" shouts Guisseppe.