Will Work For Beer

Well hello again world. Here I am! As most of you read over at Jess’ place, I got laid off last Friday. Completely unexpected, almost 4 years I worked there. So many relationships and so much professional growth, POOF! And may I just say…IT FUCKING SUCKS.

I really enjoyed my job. But, life goes on.

I have already gotten my resume done (thanks to Jess for her wonderful wonderfulness) and have thrown it to a few places. Ya’ll keep your fingers crossed for me. If I don’t find something soon, we may have to sell Master Wog’s beard to pay the mortgage.

Other than not having a job and steady paycheck, all is well in the world of me. I am now able to go on a mini vacation with Jess & Co. this coming weekend to New Orleans (WOOOHOOO!!!). Initially I wasn’t able to go because I would have had to take time off of work. Now, not so much an issue.

In other good news, Burney is still healed. The scar is slowly but surely fading. It is now like a dark fuchsia pink rather than a dark doo doo purple. I don’t have to go to Wound Care anymore, which is a huge relief.

So, I am here. Somewhere. Still breathing and kickin’ ass in karaoke. I’m just in a bit of a funky funk right now.

I will be back soon though, my little bloggy love muffins, keep on smilin’ while I’m away.

Ever seen a roach so scared it shit itself?

I have.





And now you have.


You may remember this post that Jess did over at This Life Is Mine several months ago. And if you have EVER read her blog, you know that we enjoy poop talk. We are alos fascinated by animal poop, like she said here. Every morning during our first smoke break of the day, we discuss our morning poop. Sometimes the color is funky, sometimes it was quite loud, and sometimes it was just a good ole poop.

But when I went to the bathroom this morning, as I do every morning at the office, I saw this little (HUGEFUCKINGCOCKROACHMOTHERFUCKER) guy laying on the floor, twitching at me. After taking a closer look, I realized there were tiny little roach turds laying right next to his almost dead body.

I thought to myself, damn, what a way to go. I figure he was either scared shitless, literally, or was in the middle of taking a monstrous milti-turd roach poop when he caught a whiff of the bug spray. Either way, he is almost dead, and almost dead is better than attacking me any day.


Editors Note: I am a lover of all things furry, fluffed and feather. But I HATE cockroaches. They are the epitome of pure evil, and they can all go to hell, where they belong.

Just sayin'.

I want one. NOW.

A baby goat.

Named Goat.

Master Wog and I went out to a local stable for my sister's birthday party this past weekend (she rides horses). Where I met Goat, I almost stole her from the farm.







Master Wog got on a horse. Doesn't he look regal up there?




There was a miniature horse, named Lexi.



But, more importantly, THERE WAS A BABY GOAT. Named Goat. Who likes pizza.