Well, there goes that idea.
I feel like a bird.
No, not in a good way. Not in the cheesy, cliché, "I feel like I have WINGS!" way. I mean..I feel like a pigeon. Or a penguin. For all intensive purposes, lets just say that I feel only and solely like a pigeon.
Most pigeons live in the harsh, cruel wilderness. They must compete for food while avoiding fast moving objects, such as bicycles, or small children. But they do nothing. They eat, sleep, shit, and fuck. THen they die, of course, usually by having their asshole torn through someone's windshield. That happened to my mom once. She was on her way to pick me up from Crane this year. But rather then having her own asshole going through that terrible and unsightly process, she had to witness it. The poor bird's guts got all over her car. In fact, she said it was a pigeon.
So you get the idea. I feel like a pigeon.
No, not in a good way. Not in the cheesy, cliché, "I feel like I have WINGS!" way. I mean..I feel like a pigeon. Or a penguin. For all intensive purposes, lets just say that I feel only and solely like a pigeon.
Most pigeons live in the harsh, cruel wilderness. They must compete for food while avoiding fast moving objects, such as bicycles, or small children. But they do nothing. They eat, sleep, shit, and fuck. THen they die, of course, usually by having their asshole torn through someone's windshield. That happened to my mom once. She was on her way to pick me up from Crane this year. But rather then having her own asshole going through that terrible and unsightly process, she had to witness it. The poor bird's guts got all over her car. In fact, she said it was a pigeon.
So you get the idea. I feel like a pigeon.