They call me The Pretender. I am the not-so-flowery version of the aforementioned wall-flowers, and also the one who cooks for armies of allergic writers and is able to magically produce gifts for any occasion from my office closet. But that's not why they call me The Pretender. They call me The Pretender because I have somehow managed to convince the other Hammers that I can somewhat convincingly be an expert on just about anything. Thus the "oral surgery" consultation from a fellow Hammer last Saturday. Of course I cleverly avoided actually having to perform the surgery by deftly manipulating said Hammer to perform the maneuver himself. I'm not sure that would have worked with any of the other Hammers. In fact, I'm not sure the other Hammers ACTUALLY believe I'm The Pretender. I think perhaps they go along with me being The Pretender in front of the deftly manipulated Hammer (Aaron) just to amuse themselves at one Hammer's (Aaron's) expense. If I'm to be honest, they don't call me The Pretender at all. Not even the deftly manipulated one (Aaron). I think the sad fact is, I'm just pretending to be The Pretender...
In truth, they call me Kanga. Right now I'm off to bake "Gingerbread Citizens" for the entire US Navy (including the Marines), so the story of the Hundred Acre Woods will have to wait for another time. But to ease your minds, no, I do not have a pouch, though I do have a Roo.
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