Blog of People Who Have Walked Into My Office, Looking Like Trouble.

Every day this blog will post about one person who walked into my office, looking like a big tall glass of trouble. Not that I wouldn't help, of course, but sometimes you just get that gut instinct. This time, that instinct was a 270 pound pug hitting me in the stomach, telling me "Hey kid, this here's trouble."

• This tall leggy dame. You know the kind. Pouty lips and soft, caring eyes. Both lied, but what a lie.
• Little squirrely guy. Big, thick glasses that didn't help him see that his socks were mismatched. But I didn't need glasses to see that trouble was following him around as surely as a dog follows the hot dog man.
• Tall sucker. Not from around here. His jacket barely hit his waist, and I barely avoided hitting him square in the jaw, simply for having the audacity to come into my office, trailing so much g-d d--n trouble.
  
• Cripes. Of all the days, why today? I had sworn to myself that if one more robot walked through the door, I'd become a nun and move down to San Miguel. Look like I need to go shopping for a habit.