Gold Business Casual

Golf Business Casual

Dear Frieda,

My boss has invited me to go golfing with him next week. I’m hoping this means I’m on the short list to receive the promotion that I’ve been working so hard for. But…GOLFING! I’ve only played golf a couple of times, so I’m really terrible, and I don’t have a clue what I should wear! What should I do?
Signed,

Hard Worker

Dear Hard Worker,

Since this is as much a business meeting as it is a game, you should strive for a balance between professional and sporty. This Frieda Original is perfect! The white on white cuffed Bermuda shorts are modest and cool, and the tailored, sleeveless blouse…with matching visor, you must protect your skin!…is subtly flowered: crisp, clean lines with a hint of femininity. As for your lack of golf skills, I wouldn’t worry about that. Beating you on the golf course will make him happy, and you want your employer to be happy!
Signed,

Frieda

Morty Exposes The Industrial Chew Toy Complex

If humans got one thing right, it’s the IRS. Wonderful profession. More of a calling than a job really. If I understand Mr. Baxter correctly, it’s an entire agency that sneaks around making sure everybody else is on the up and up. Newsflash puppies: That’s what I do everyday—have been for the better part of a decade. Don’t get me started. Of course sometimes I don’t know why I bother. Most puppies are hopeless. It’s all entitlement and excess with these goofballs. Doggles®? Are you serious!? Ha! I can see fine without “stylish protective eyeware” thank you very much. Who comes up with this junk? When I was a puppy I had one tennis ball. One. Kept it for three years and it wasn’t even new to begin with. That’s how we did things back then. Don’t get me started. Did I complain? Heck no! I was grateful and took damn good care of my belonging—dropped it in my water bucket every now and then, kept it clean as best I could. No telling when I’d get another one if God forbid something happened to it. Of course that was all before the meteoric rise of the Chew Toy Industrial Complex. That’s right puppies, I’m talking about a shadow pack of elites—probably Huskies—who control everything. But don’t expect to read about it in The Droolitzer, I’m pretty sure Bogie is in on their mainstream agenda. Canine social engineering and whatnot. Newsflash puppies: life’s not all biscuits and belly rubs. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. And whatever happened to carefully burying your bones for a rainy day? Lemme guess? You don’t wanna get your wittle paws durtie. Ha! Anyway, who’s funding this surplus of assets in the canine community? That’s what I want to know. Half these puppies are underemployed at best. Unbelievable. Which remind me of the time…