tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3142627.post-768547032002-05-22T13:59:00.000-07:002002-05-22T13:59:58.433-07:00<b>Toadies and Toadability</b> <br /> <br />I want a toadie. I really do. I was thinking about it today, while I was taking the slow-ass elevator down to the first floor to get a cup of coffee. "Why me?" I thought, "Why am I getting a cup of coffee for myself?" <br /> "Self," I said, "You need a toadie." That's right. A Toadie. A Stoolie. A Pigeon. A Yes-man. A Sycophant. A Bitch. I need one. Someone to do my bidding. For those late night chicken-wing whims, I wouldn't have to go to all the trouble of driving downtown--I'd simply shout "Toadie! Wings!" And my Toadie would serve them up to me. And if I needed another beer--I'd simply send the Toadie out. Smokes? Toadies job. Calling in sick to work? Looks like a job for--the Toadie! <br /> So, if you're agreeable, slightly violent, and incredibly loyal to me, I am now accepting applications. Please leave your resume in the comment field. <br /> <br />Ciao, <br /> <br />Ned <br />Nednoreply@blogger.com