Any Questions?

I was complaining, and none to quietly, about having to go to meetings where nothing is accomplished because everyone has their own idea of work-environment utopia. (My idea of a work-environment utopia does not involve, well, it doesn’t involve a whole lot of things at all, thank you very much. We’ll discuss Cocoa my pool boy at another time.) Have you notice that those tremendously mind-numbing meetings inevitably end with: “Are there any questions?” Well yes, Frank, you ball-bashing hypocritical hater of women smarter than your third-grade prodigal son, I DO have a question or two.

What exactly is the gestation period of the Tibetan Yak?

If I yell at my kids and neither one listens, did that bear shit in the woods?

How does one “knick knack patty wack” before giving a dog their bone?

Do you give your dog a bone, Frank?

Frank, when did you know your wife was entering menopause and does that bruise on the side of your face, the one that has the approximate circumference of a cast iron skillet, yeah that one? Does it hurt if I touch it like..this?

Has your boss found out you like to wear ladies clothing when you’re not here at the office?

What should I ask the Home Depot guy for when I go to purchase something to fix my mother’s kitchen floor? She wanted us to move her fridge so that she could clean under it before her new one arrived tomorrow so the delivery guy wouldn’t see how dirty it was underneath her old one. She told my kids to just “pull it out, there’s wheels on it” and they tore up her floor. What should I get to fix it?

Did you return that call to your doctor? He said your STD test results were back and he REALLY needed to talk to you.

Is that your wife leaving on the arm of the CIO? She looks good; she lose some weight? She seems happy!

When I hold up these three fingers and you read between the lines, what do you see?

Yes, Frank, I have a couple of questions.