Walking in Liberace´s shoes

Have been erring continuously at work for the past couple of weeks.
At first it was more like a minor nuisance; it was funny and everybody laughed and everything wrong was made right again with a single stroke of sending a “correct copy” via e-mail.
Now either the stakes are getting bigger or my head´s just off to orbiting Pluto. It´s been kind of like, “What, firebombing Berlin? I thought you meant Dresden!”…

Three alternatives before getting my behind busted & re-located to the back-end of the breadlines:
Option one is out of the question these days. Very, very sad but I can´t do anything about it. Option two would be vacations, which I´m beginning to convince myself are sorely needed… but might be unwillingly postponed once again by forces beyond my control. Option three is the poor man´s idea of hitting the gym, hard: which in my case is getting back to jogging on the streets full-time.
Knees are at almost 100% now.

Turns out I got new sneakers for Christmas from some long-since forgotten (but very cute) godmother (she´s kind of hot, really!! And single!). They are silver, they are shiny, they´re the latest model of running shoes with those fancy space-age outsoles or something.
Were they golden I could´ve said I was “Wally West, the Flash, the fastest Man Alive” and all that. But naww. They do look kinda girlie.

Let´s put ´em to some use today, anyhow. Liberace´s gonna eat my dust: “Look at the little f------ go!,” they´re gonna say as I pass them by.