oh, wait. one more.

My manager came up to me late in practice last night and said, “Heard you went flying off the track. What happened?” I told her and she said, “As long as you weren’t the one getting hit.”

“No, ma’am,” I said. “I was doing the hitting.”

She beamed, and walked off saying, “That’s my girl.”

(Recessionists! Funemployed! Here’s a place to win tickets for the game. Bonus fun for those of you who like coming up with Derby names but don’t plan on ever strapping on a pair of skates.)

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