There are women whose thoughtful husbands buy them flowers for no reason. And then there’s me. One day I couldn’t stand it any longer. "Why don’t you ever bring me flowers?" I asked.
"What’s the point?" my husband said. "They die after about a week."
"So could you," I shot back, "but I still like having you around."
The chef of the upscale restaurant I manage collided with a waiter one day and spilled coffee all over our computer. The liquid poured into the processing unit, and resulted in some dramatic crackling and popping sounds.
After sopping up the mess, we gathered around the terminal as the computer was turned back on. "Please let it work," pleaded the guilt-ridden waiter.
A waitress replied, "Should be faster than ever. That was a double espresso."