I am.
I’m just gonna keep it real for ya’ll.
I have been feeling cranky.
There was this one guy on public-ish transportation that was really drunk and really REALLY offensive.
He made me feel cranky.
And stabby.
I’m not kidding.
I almost made the bus driver stop so I could buy me a wooden spoon so I could give that man-child something to REALLY cuss about.
And there’s some other thing about this other thing that I must remain irritatingly vague about because as much as I think this post will not be read by these people … if I have learned anything, I have learned crime doesn’t pay passive agression pays just tuck it deep down, Jenny.
CRANKY.
Could it be the alignment of the ovulatory planets?
PERHAPS.
Just tonight I had resolved to marinate in my crankiness. Just sit in it and taste the depth of it’s bitterness.
But then I came across some words of encouragement in a blog… and felt smacked upside the head for deciding to marinate in aforementioned crankiness.
I was so moved I tried to comment on said inspirational post.
YOU KNOW HOW YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO SIGN IN ON GOOGLE FOR SOME BLOG COMMENTING SYSTEMS EVEN-THOUGH YOU ALREADY LOGGED INTO GOOGLE OH AND YEAH YOUR COMMENT GOES POOF?
AND THEN YOU TRY AGAIN?
AND POOF?!
Awesome.
So I decided to look at my email.
I have never been good at logic.
But this time it worked out because I came across an email with this picture and it was a good distraction:
A nose-head. A bearded man protecting me from a fairly flirty (I felt) nose-head.
A lady frontin’ in a flower suit???!
!!!
And how about my name tag, eh?
How cool am I ownin’ that name tag on a photo shoot?
OK. The nose was not flirting with me. I’m sure he thought I had great smelling hair.
You know, due to his heightened sense of smell.
I imagine he had a heightened sense of smell.
He actually didn’t tell me.
On account of the fact he didn’t have a mouth.
So…
{Photo courtesy Method. More on that here.}
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