Friday
I am a wronged man. This morning, I was pimped out by my fellow Wetland Biologists to the Forestry department. I found myself locked in the cab of a Ford F-250 with a furry, Napoleonic lumberjack whose idea of proper reparations for slavery involves slamming as many "izzles" and "iggeties" into his vocabulary as federal law will allow. Also, top-40 stations should be outlawed.
Corn was also served.
From there, the day steadily improved, and culminated in the line "Well ****, I hope your 'Hairy Butt Man Disease' feels better!" (edited). I bought automotive components, 10-year old cheese, and peanut butter M&Ms. I was (honorably and subtly) propositioned by a 17 and 11/12ths year-old-girl, and nearly run off the road by a truck which was ignored by a lady trooper. I dropped Harry Harmer's name, drank egg nog, and bit my sister on the forehead.
And it's only 7PM.
Corn was also served.
From there, the day steadily improved, and culminated in the line "Well ****, I hope your 'Hairy Butt Man Disease' feels better!" (edited). I bought automotive components, 10-year old cheese, and peanut butter M&Ms. I was (honorably and subtly) propositioned by a 17 and 11/12ths year-old-girl, and nearly run off the road by a truck which was ignored by a lady trooper. I dropped Harry Harmer's name, drank egg nog, and bit my sister on the forehead.
And it's only 7PM.