Your pal, David.
I always said he's a pretty boy.
David, that's rude.
Anna and I think we get this joke, though we're not sure (and thus, hedging, indicating our lack of confidence in the truth value of the claim). But, if we're confused, no doubt quite a bit of your readership is, too. Perhaps (more hedging, though this time out of mere politeness) some explanation could accompany these wonderful works of art?
Andrew Dionne, my esteemed colleague in ministry, parts his hair in the middle, with a pronounced upward and backward swoop.
Earlier today I was drawing a picture of Andrew with his new haircut on the boardroom whiteboard and placing the word "androgynous" (sure to get his ire up) underneath it when it occurred to me that I could alter the adjective just a wee bit to make it even more Andrewish.
So I did, and sure enough, it got him exercised. I then thought I'd try to get my new adjective in use at CTW by putting the artwork on display on the blog.
We were running around the office today ending every sentence with "as it were." It was a fun way to end a rather stressful week, as it were. Others might find such silliness unhelpful, but we found it delightful. . . .
Your friend in Christ,
As Andrew's wife, hense the expert on his appearance, I will only say that
a) he does NOT part "his hair in the middle, with a pronounced upward and backward swoop" and
b) his eyes are much dreamier than you portray. They are the color of the sea after a storm. (since we are in Princess Bride mode, it seems)
Mrs. Rev. Dr. Andrewgynous
See, now he's got his wife defending him!!!;-)
David, The Artist, as it were. . . .
I think I merely give up, as it were.
I am assuming that by this time you are understanding my departure from CTW. After 12 years of abuse from David I felt I had to flee. David's philosophy is that a good offense is the best defense so he never relents picking on those around him.
There is only one language David understands, brute force. I remember a major change in his apporach toward me after soundly thrashing him in an arm wrestling match. Do what you need to to make sure you can take him (because if you lose to him your situation becomes doubly worse) than challenge him in front of at least three other men to the contest. A victory will help curb this kind of thing.
Don't underestimate David he does have a fair bit of strength although middle age has definitely taken him down a few notches. He used to wrestle me a lot but after I grew stronger and he weaker he started to resort to the kind of thing he is doing to you with this drawing, again my suggestion, brute force!
I appreciate your concern and advice. I gave up arm wrestling in 7th grade when 65 lb Davin Coon (yes, that was his name) benched more than me.
My plan is to slip some laxative in the latte machine he has in his office.
What did I ever do to you to deserve such treatment?
Have you been eating your roughage?
Hey Mrs. Rev. Dr. Dionne, it's henCe--not henSe. Send me a ten-spot and I'll go into the guts and correct it for you on your original comment, as well as pull down this comment. Both nasties will go away and you'll again appear pristine.
Until then, your writing will be a living confirmation of the pig-ignorance of academics.
It's hard for me to think and spell clearly when in the presence my manly, hunky husband.
Mrs. Rev. Dr. Dionne
"It's hard for me to think and spell clearly when in the presence my manly, hunky husband."
Uh, was there an "of" intended, here?
My point exactly.
Just having fun brother.
I must admit that I can't want to have an assistant someday so that I can pick on them, it is a fundamental part of training!
Amazingly, I have even come to the place of not minding you calling me "plugly". First of all I know that it is not true although for a time you had me convinced I was but my wife has assured me that I am very handsome.
Second, I have come to understand through the years that this is your way of telling me you love me. I'll take plugly over an internet broadcast drawing any day.
I am chuckling as I read this line from you, "What did I ever do to deserve such treatment?" What did you ever do? So much to torment and tease me that to recount it all would take hours and hours. I thought about compiling a list but have decided instead to lean upon hymnody:
Could we with ink the ocean fill and were the skies of parchment made.
Were every stalk on earth a quill and every man a scribe by trade;
To write the abuse you inflicted upon me would drain the ocean dry.
Nor could the scroll contain the whole though stretched from sky to sky.
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