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Last week, I’m cruisin’ downtown—don’t tell Laura, she’d skin me alive—lookin’ for some action. Saw this gal, legs longer’n a Texas highway, and I’m thinkin’, “P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way!”—like I got her address locked in my brain! I ain’t no genius, but I know a deal when I see one. She’s wavin’, I’m sweatin’—hotter’n a billy goat in a pepper patch! Paid her fifty bucks—prob’ly too much, but I’m a sucker for a smile. “Righteous bucks,” she says, and I’m happy as a pig in mud.

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So, I finally get to the office, and my boss is already on my case. “Where have you been?” she says. I’m like, “Traffic, you know?” But really, I just hit snooze too many times. Anyway, I dive into the numbers, and let me tell you, they were a mess. I mean, who knew accounting could be this chaotic? I found discrepancies like they were Easter eggs. I was like, “What the heck, people?”

20th traditional ‘Tamburica & Mandolin’ to be held in Kaštel Lukšić