A little tale of suck.
Occasionally we all have nights that proverbially, suck ass. So let me alliteratively paint a crude picture of last night for you, at work:
Imagine a gleaming silver platter burnished to a moonglow shine, stretching the span of a stadium. A glorious thing of polished metal, ready to receive the myriad assortment of foul cheeks descending unto it for suckage.
Thickly layer said platter with all manner of buttocks, rumps, fleshly mounds, corpulent masses and horrid things. Now poise Odin's Platinum Straw of Ragnarok over the whole feculent, sordid mass.
Suck hard, 'me pretties.
I was attempting to breathe a fast-moving mixture of wet leaves, pine needles, flying tree limbs and horizontal rain on my way to my shift, on my guest-checkup rounds while at shift, and realizing that I work in a relatively fragile, very old building sited not too far from the same trees that are shedding limbs against it into the wind like green and splintery pine cannonballs. Actually skipped my rounds at around 4 or so, fearing for my own safety; I'd already been hit by little treebits, and after watching a limb my own height come smacking into the pavement a good hundred feet away from the tree that actually shed it... yeah.
It doesn't help in the slightest that I've now been woken twice in the middle of what my body clock tells me nowadays is "night", into daylight, which tends to *really* screw up the old pituitary. Grr.
Imagine a gleaming silver platter burnished to a moonglow shine, stretching the span of a stadium. A glorious thing of polished metal, ready to receive the myriad assortment of foul cheeks descending unto it for suckage.
Thickly layer said platter with all manner of buttocks, rumps, fleshly mounds, corpulent masses and horrid things. Now poise Odin's Platinum Straw of Ragnarok over the whole feculent, sordid mass.
Suck hard, 'me pretties.
I was attempting to breathe a fast-moving mixture of wet leaves, pine needles, flying tree limbs and horizontal rain on my way to my shift, on my guest-checkup rounds while at shift, and realizing that I work in a relatively fragile, very old building sited not too far from the same trees that are shedding limbs against it into the wind like green and splintery pine cannonballs. Actually skipped my rounds at around 4 or so, fearing for my own safety; I'd already been hit by little treebits, and after watching a limb my own height come smacking into the pavement a good hundred feet away from the tree that actually shed it... yeah.
It doesn't help in the slightest that I've now been woken twice in the middle of what my body clock tells me nowadays is "night", into daylight, which tends to *really* screw up the old pituitary. Grr.