April Fools

I finagled not being fired with dumb luck today. My trainer gave her two week notice, once again saving my hide from unemployment. What a doll she is. I feel guilty for littering her cubicle with 120 balloons, now. Classic on both ends: I luck out and I feel guilty for wrongdoing the being which provided the luck. A conundrum that is hording my sleep tonight.

I also made a complete and total ass of myself at the Rapids game on Saturday. Absolute, unbiased, without a doubt, ass! Gander at these photos.

Before

After

Now... Take and enjoy the finite expressions I display. In the former photo, I am cool-as-a- cucumber. My trophy of a just shotgunned Miller Lite held with assured and resounding confidence in my hand. The casual and slight lean suggest a demeanor that resonates a suave attitude accompanied with my dashing looks and perfect wind blown epidermis demand and gather respect. The latter photo burns all of that right to the ground, ablaze with no shortage of loser qualities. I love the crooked hand. Weak amd wimpy enough to bend with a serious attempt to ward off any masculinity. "That twelve ouncer' is going to kill me", my gimp wrist whimpers. I wish my pinkie would jut out. That would sanctify a self ass-whooping righteously deserved. The smile suggests no less than complete drool on any ones shoulder, car seat, bedspread, futon. I feel like Zelda from Pet Sematary (Below). She and I have pretty, pretty hair.