Attention: You have been robbed!
Yes, robbed. All weekend I was busy having adventures and soaking up awesome stories to tell you about this morning. I saw FERAL PEACOCKS! I am not even joking about this, friends. FERAL PEACOCKS. Just let that sink in. Oh, one was roosting in a pine tree, while another was prancing on the roof of an abandoned trailer (I am such a tease).
But that’s all you’re gonna get out of me today, because my (thankfully female) coworker pulled me aside after our staff meeting today to inform me that my dress was split up the seam in the back, exposing my flower print underwear and embarrassingly white thighs to whomever chanced to walk behind me.
So instead of tales of FERAL PEACOCKS (including my friend Kristin, who is apparently a FERAL PEACOCK WHISPERER), I’ll leave you with this:
Imagine the creepiest, most judgmental gargoyle you can think of. Now imagine it in your backyard. Now imagine yourself a bit hungover.
The media has got it all wrong. Rabid pit bulls can’t hold a candle to the menace that is Hemo.