Run Over

I've almost run over a lot of things at my work. But I don't think I've actually hit anything. Except maybe that chipmunk. I'm not sure...

Oh well. That happens when you work at a bird sanctuary.

Thankful

A little while back, I mentioned to a co-worker that, on my days off that week, I had been picking stones. He commented on how picking stones is the worst job in the universe, and I would have to agree. I've actually compiled a list of things worse than picking stones, and the list isn't very long. In no particular order:

1. Slavery;
2. Genocide, or murder of any sort;
   
3. Justin Bieber's music and the like;
4. Orcs;
5. Country music; and
6. Twilight.

So, yeah. That's how bad picking stones is.

Anyway, when he said it's the worst job in the universe, I said, "You're tellin' me!" As soon as I said it, I realized I had almost said, "You're preaching to the choir." Immediately thereafter, I reflected on how glad I was that I didn't say that.

Thank peas I didn't.

A Little Bit

I hate myself a little bit. I got up at 6:30 this morning. Peed, had some Cheerios, got dressed for work, pood, brushed my teeth, Facebooked a bit, and left for work at 7:30. It's about a half-hour drive from my house to my work. Which, by the way, is on the other side of the 45th Parallel. In other words, I live closer to the North Pole than to the Equator, but I work closer to the Equator than to the North Pole.

Anyway, at 7:52, I was coming into town, and then I remembered... Shipoopi (I'm trying to swear less, so I've replaced the last letter of one certain swear with "poopi," making it into the name of a song from The Music Man. You can't go wrong with musical theatre, I think). I don't work at 8 today. I work at 1:30.

Now I hate myself. A little bit.

Lots O'

I've lots o' things to say, and finally a chance to say them. So, several posts today!