I follow folks on Twitter who have had their placentas made into capsules for ingestion. I read their tweets and look at their TwitPics of ground up placenta…

Then, Katie gave her take on it here.

Then, my co-worker . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: Placentas, Umbilical Cords, etc.]]> I feel like I have been surrounded by placenta talk as of late.

I follow folks on Twitter who have had their placentas made into capsules for ingestion. I read their tweets and look at their TwitPics of ground up placenta…

Then, Katie gave her take on it here.

Then, my co-worker told me about her sister-in-law who was trying to encourage her to encapsulate her placenta and ingest it because it will help with post-partum depression (among other things according to her sister-in-law). Her sister-in-law also took home her umbilical cord and had it coiled into the shape of a heart (my co-worker said it looks like dead, dry skin… shaped like a heart).

Now look people.

I consider myself to be open-minded, with my one of my favorite statements being “that’s your business.”

With that being said, for those of us who choose not to encapsulate, bake (like in a pasta dish), mix (as in a placenta smoothie) or plant (I’ve heard it’s an amazing fertilizer) our placentas- don’t turn your nose either, ay?

That’s not for me. Why? Because I said so, that’s why.

You have your reasons and I’d rather not eat bloody stuff that comes out of my body.

Should I start saving the clots that fall out of my vagina when I have my period? No?

Okay, a little extreme. I’m just sayin’ for me? They can toss my placenta and umbilical cord as medical waste thank you very much. I don’t want to be talked into eating my placenta… I don’t even eat pork! Or brussel sprouts, or any type of yogurt that isn’t Yoplait Strawberry Whips, or strawberry ice cream or squid or sushi… And these are things people eat every day.

I didn’t eat fried mystery animal on a stick when I went to China… even though I was told it was a delicacy.

That’s. Not. My. Thing.

Don’t knock me for it.

As for my umbilical cord. Thank God for being so smart as to create this magical highway that keeps my child alive in my womb for ten months. Now? I get to enjoy my kid… and maybe even bank that life saving blood in the umbilical cord, but… I’d rather not keep it thank you. After damn near ten months of gestation, the only prize I want is my baby.

Especially since my placenta has been actin’ up this pregnancy. Why would I want to eat it? I don’t want to reward it for all of the hardships I’ve been having thus far. (smh)

My co-workers sister said that humans are the only animals that don’t eat their placentas.

Her response?

Dogs lick their asses, should we all start doing that too?

I agree.

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You feel the cramps and then it feels like a big drop is about to come and boom! There’s blood?

That happened to me on Friday.

I was on the sofa watching some tv and I felt the drop and I thought, . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: On Friday]]> Ladies, you know when you know your period is coming?

You feel the cramps and then it feels like a big drop is about to come and boom! There’s blood?

That happened to me on Friday.

I was on the sofa watching some tv and I felt the drop and I thought, that seems like a lot if it’s discharge, so I let my hand go down there and my pants were wet.

Um, okay.

Up the stairs I go to the bathroom and what’s looking back at me is dark red and definitely not discharge. I kinda start to freak.

Yes, because of my miscarriage history and because well, I didn’t spot with Pea and I know all pregnancies are different, but I wasn’t really prepared to spot and what do I do? I look at the clock and my Dr.’s office is, of course, closed.

So, I consult the book. I keep it on the toilet, ya know, for light reading and to refresh my memory. After all, it’s been 3 years since I’ve been here. The book says that for any consistent bleeding in the second trimester I should contact my doctor that same day. Of course this would happen on a Friday night when the doctor’s office is closed.

I call anyway, because they have an on-call nurse with her list of symptoms that she can look up in the computer. She types in my symptoms and asks me my 600 questions (somehow saying that this is my fourth pregnancy with only one live birth never, ever feels comfortable)… and she decides to call the Dr. on call who, of course, is not my doctor but the other lady in the office. She’s cool, but she’s only been in practice for like 4 years and my doctor has been doing this forever… I like my doctor better.

She calls me back and says I need to be on 72 hour bed rest and then gave me a reason for the bleeding that I didn’t fully believe or understand. Um, okay.

Saturday, more blood. So I call back the lovely on call nurse. She says “it’s only been 24 hours, just rest.”

Right.

Sunday, more blood. And, no, it’s not heavy and I wasn’t “filling 1 pad in 1 hour,” but it was blood and it was all day on-and-off and I didn’t like it. And there were cramps and again, I didn’t like it.

I email work to let them know about my bedrest, text all of my first grade team teachers and head back to the sofa. I decide that at 8:29 am (since my doctor’s office opens at 8:30) I’d be on the phone demanding to see my doctor.

Let me tell you about my doctor.

I love her.

She’s been in practice forever. She’s got 4 kids of her own and she’s no dummy.

Now the front desk people who answer the phones? Absolute. assholes. I can’t stand each and every one of them.

Here’s how this morning went down:

I explain that I’ve been bleeding and would like to come in and see the doctor. I explain that I called the on call nurse two times this weekend, but between the blood and the painful cramps, I want to see my doctor.

“Uhh, I don’t have anything for her today because she’s on call at the hospital aaaaaand it looks like she’s all booked up for the week.”

Me: So what would you like me to do? Lay around and continue bleeding? I’m confused.

“Uhhhh, well I can leave a message for her medical assistant and have her call you back.”

Me: Yeah, you should do that.

And she proceeds to take my information and suddenly the fucking light bulb in her head comes on and she says:

“Um, so, are you pregnant?”

I wanted to jump through the phone and say “yes, you dizzy fucking broad have you heard anything I’ve said?!?”

But, I say yes, I am pregnant 14 weeks and six days. This is my fourth pregnancy with 1 live birth, it’d be great if I could talk to someone.

“Oh, yes, well, I’ll have Mo call you back right away.”

Oh. Em. Eff. Gee.

I do not like stupid people.

Mo (my Dr.’s right hand girl/medical assistant/the shit at her job!) called me right back and she’s all “hey girl, how ya feelin’, so I got these notes that you called twice this weekend… yeah, I’m just gonna send you for an emergency ultrasound… are you still bleeding? You know what, doesn’t matter, let’s take a look in there and see what’s goin’ on.

Yes, that’s my girl.

Ultrasound tech is just as happy as she wants to be at 10 am. Snapping photos away. Looking at the uterine walls, looking at the placenta, measuring the baby’s head, femur, arms, legs and other organs/body parts.

“So, have you gone downtown for a sneak peak yet?” she says.

“Nope, not yet.”

And we have talked about it. There’s a free-standing ultrasound place that will tell you the gender for $80 and I’m kinda impatient so we talked about going, but we haven’t.

She snaps 8 gazillion more pictures for the doctor, checks the heart rate (152 bpm) and turns on the red/blue lights on the screen.

“Wow, this baby is really busy in here. It won’t stay still.”

“Yep, our daughter moved around a lot in utero as well.”

“So, do you wanna know? I mean, usually they tell you around 20 weeks, but it’s really clear what it is…”

Uh… hell. yes.

So, it’s a baby!

That’s the most important part. Lookin’ good, moving around like a ninja, got a little thumb sucking action and all is well.

My placenta is covering my cervix (aka placenta previa) which caused the bleeding and cramps. We are going to monitor for further bleeding, Doc took me outta the game tomorrow as well and wants me to rest. I have to go back in a few weeks for another ultrasound to see if the placenta has moved.

According to Dr. Google it usually moves on its own and if it doesn’t, you’ll have to have a c-section to avoid delivering the placenta before the baby.

I’m cool with that.

I’m growing a human y’all. 10 fingers and 10 toes.

As long as the Doc doesn’t have to put me on perma-bed rest… as I would die of boredom.

This all started on Friday. My health insurance only gives me 2 ultrasounds unless it’s an emergency and I wouldn’t have been able to see this baby til about 6 months. But because of Friday, I got to see the movements, the left and right side of little baby’s brain, arms legs… oh, and I got a high five!

Five perfect little fingers.

Thanks to Friday.

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For example, an email is sent out at work- maybe an announcement, an FYI, need-to-know but not necessarily need-to-respond email. Then? Boom. Your Microsoft Outlook (or whatever server your company uses) starts popping up like mad . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: Weekly Hate: Round 6]]> 1. People who hit “reply all” on emails that aren’t reply all-able. (Yep, made that up)

For example, an email is sent out at work- maybe an announcement, an FYI, need-to-know but not necessarily need-to-respond email. Then? Boom. Your Microsoft Outlook (or whatever server your company uses) starts popping up like mad in your lower right hand corner. You click and it’s an email that says something like “Okay” or “Thanks for the info.” or “yeah, me too!”

Uh…

Delete.

Stop filling my email with crap.

I think email etiquette says that you should only hit reply all if the sender requests that you do so.

2. Bumper stickers.

More importantly stupid bumper stickers. Like this one:

Image borrowed from Sticker Giant

These bad boys are all over. It’s like an infection. There are bumper stickers with the rocky mountains in the background and some term in front… like “native.”

Nobody cares if you’re a born and raised Colorado native. Nobody.

Or this one…

Image borrowed from Sticker Giant

Should I get one that says “walker?” or should it say “I only run when being chased, if there’s a fire or gunshots.”

No?

Okay.

While I’m on the topic of bumper stickers, it’s not cute for you to plaster the entire back of your car with bumper stickers. It’s tacky. Just like in some places they ban really big billboards that de-beautify the place your car covered with bumper stickers should be considered an environmental hazard- of the aesthetic kind. It hurts my eyes. Stop it.

3. I hate that at a certain point, my car no longer tells me how many miles to empty, it simply says “Low Fuel.” WTF?!? Excuse me very expensive monthly payment car… if you are smart enough to tell me 267 miles to empty, 32 miles to empty, 22 miles to empty- why can’t you go all the way down to 2 miles to empty? Low Fuel? What does that mean? Is that a guesstimate? A warning? Like… “your fuel is so low I can’t even give you a number anymore?” It makes me mad.

4. Finally, I hate the new Timeline on Facebook. I hate that it goes back all the way to when you started on there and that there may be people you aren’t “friends” with anymore or just inappropriate sh*t that one of your friends posted on your wall in 2005 that you don’t want visible to your 2012 “friends” and you have to go back and “hide” it.

I had to “hide” all of 2005-2010! lol

I hate that they made it so damn tedious to “hide” everything and even when I thought something was hidden, I’d click “View your profile as…” and see that some stuff wasn’t hidden.

I hate that Timeline is so overwhelming- there’s two columns with things happening on both sides of the screen- it’s information overload… for me. I like one straight, clean column that I can scroll down to see. It’s not aesthetically pleasing. I’m just sayin.

And I hate that Facebook is always forcing shit on us. They should let you choose. Like that little Facebook in a Facebook on the right side of the screen? What’s the purpose of that? Isn’t that what the newsfeed is for? Thank God there’s an add-on for the Firefox browser that allows me to block all that extra noise so I can Facebook stalk in peace. smh

Alright, it’s Friday. What are you hatin’ on today?

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I have to tell you.

I don’t check the mail.

I mean, I might check it once every two weeks and the only reason I do that is because I know I piss my mail carrier off when they open the door and there’s not enough room to put the mail . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: Mail? What Mail?]]> People.

I have to tell you.

I don’t check the mail.

I mean, I might check it once every two weeks and the only reason I do that is because I know I piss my mail carrier off when they open the door and there’s not enough room to put the mail in there. Then they have to drive all the way down to my house and leave me a not-so-nice note that pretty much says “Hey! empty your mailbox lazy.”

But, first of all- the mailbox is far.

We live in a townhouse complex, so you don’t get the luxury of having the mailbox on your doorstep. You don’t even get the luxury of having a group of mailboxes say… every ‘x amount’ of groups of townhouses. What you get is an obnoxiously large group of mailboxes WAY, WAY at the front of the townhouse complex that is off of a one way street that I never, ever use to come into the complex unless I go to the grocery store.

I have to drive to check the mail from my house. (I mean, I could walk, but what is this? Exercise? No.)

Second- what the heck am I checking the mail for? Bills.

Right. I owe you, you and you. Got it. Check.

I pay almost all of my bills online anyway. So, no I don’t want a physical copy and not everyone gives me the option to “go paperless” and I don’t need to see how much I owe you in print. I may vomit. $180 utility bill. Again. Yes!!!!!!!! That’s all I ever wanted. Thank you Colorado Utility people.

Last- junk mail.

What. The. Fuck.

How did you find me? How do you know my name and that I live here?

Even worse? When you don’t even take the time to learn my name and instead address it to “our friendly neighbor at…” or “Current resident…”

How do you know I’m a friendly neighbor? Because actually? I hate you for putting crap in my mailbox.

I want to think of something snarky to write on it so that I can drop it in the mail labeled “return to sender.” Maybe, “To my annoying, local, tree killing friends: I already have a dentist/gym/pizza shop/oil change person/credit card company to charge me obscene interest.”

No? Okay.

Well then I have to stand there and waste my time doing this:

Shred.

Shred.

Shred.

Shred.

So then my shred basket is full to the brim because, really? I don’t have time stand there and shred stuff.

But then I’ll get an email/call/text from the mother-in-law, best friend, Tweep- someone saying “did you get the ___ I sent in the mail?”

Oh… right… mail. I should go check that.

I’m really good at sending mail. I mail people stuff all of the time. Letters, packages, whatever.

But checking it? Yeah…

I’m workin’ on it.

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First order of business- I don’t ever . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: State of My Union Address]]> I’ll try to be brief, not long and boring like when The President gives his State of the Union and for goodness sake, I promise not to cut off your favorite television shows either. You should know, though, that things have been… busy around here.

First order of business- I don’t ever blog about work… and I probably never will unless it’s a good day. But this has been an interesting school year. It has been full of stress, tears, amazing test scores for my kids, successes, failures and everything in between. I want you all to know that after much deliberation and two years I have decided to move on from my current school and have turned in my letter of resignation.

Risky?

Yes?

But. I’ve been diligently applying for new jobs, gotten four solid letters of recommendation and praying like nobody’s business. I ask for your prayers/well-wishes as well because i do need to work, but what I need more than that is to work in a place where I can:

a. reach children in the manner that I know I’m capable of

b. grow as a professional educator

c. work. really work. and not in fear

Second- There’s been a lot of stuff going on in my extended family. I feel like I’m learning something new every day about myself and my family. I have so much other stuff going on in my life, though, that I really need to learn to separate their shit from my shit. Seriously. Because I’ve been letting it annoy me and I’ve been carrying on about things knowing that nothing will change or be different. you know why? Because people don’t change. (Unless they want to) So, I digress.

Third- My husband and I have tried for 2 years, unsuccessfully to add to our family of three. There was the miscarriage in 2010 and then the miscarriage in 2011. I was told that “God knows best” and that maybe I wasn’t meant to have any more children by some and other non-consoling things. I think it’s important to state a few things- the decision to have a child (or another child) lies with the parents alone, not with extended family or friends. Second, regardless of opinion, respecting people’s decisions is so important. Third, and most important to me is that the heart wants what the heart wants. And? My heart wants to be a mother. I’m not the best at the job (I mean, who is?) but I do love the job. Also? I love having siblings. They are annoying and funny and loving and pains in my ass. It’s great. And my husband never really liked being an only child, so we knew that Pea would not be an only child. Easy decision.

With that being said after much pain and strife, I am over-the-moon happy to announce that we are in our second trimester of a healthy, viable pregnancy (Thank you, Jesus). It’s been filled with hormones and other drugs and nerves, but all is well in the womb.

Fourth- I’ve always been vocal about my hatred for my husband’s dog. He told me that because I wasn’t raised with a dog in the house all the time like he is, I probably don’t feel the same bond that he does with the dog. Fair enough. I gave my husband an ultimatum. I have never thought of myself as the ultimatum type, but I pretty much told him it’s me or the dog… (but not really, cause where the heck am I going? But I thought I’d scare him enough to get rid of that thing) and it worked. He found someone he knew to take the dog. Then? I started having wifey-remorse. Is it mean of me to force my husband to get rid of the dog that he loves so much? Probably. And? Pea loves the dog too. Really? The dog is a hit with everyone but me. So, I thought I was going to announce that our home would be dog-free, but I’ve decided to tuck my bitchiness away and let him keep the dog. I mean, he’ll die soon, right? (Kidding. Sort of. But not really.)

The Union is doing well. We are troopers. Shit hits the fan, we wipe the shit off and keep it movin’.

We feel amazingly blessed with the chance to bring another child into this world and I feel confident in my ability to find a job. Is there a back up plan? Of course. I will sub my face off if I don’t get a full time teaching gig. The great thing about teachers? Someone is always absent, therefore, subs are always needed. Perfect example? Today? My school district ran out of substitutes (where does that happen at?!?). I can also tutor, continue to freelance write and just do what I need to do to make it happen. I am more prepared for this than I was in California mainly because:

a. I am certified to teach in this state (which means that)

b. becoming a sub will be a cinch.

I am feeling encouraged about the days, weeks and months ahead. I know the husband does too.

Oh, and God bless the United States of America.

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Have you met Pea? She’s amazing.

She’s a great shade of light brown.

But that question? Threw me off guard.

You’re three. Where did that question come from?

In her own words she says that Mommy is . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: Mommy, What Color Am I?]]> This is what my three year old asked me out of the blue.

Have you met Pea? She’s amazing.

She’s a great shade of light brown.

But that question? Threw me off guard.

You’re three. Where did that question come from?

In her own words she says that Mommy is brown and Daddy is white, but “Mommy, what color am I?”

Uh… Uh…Uhm…

I guess we weren’t prepared to have this conversation with her yet.

The husband and I were like uhh you’re like caramel. Kind of like a vanilla latte. (As if she knows what a latte is)

So I Google Imaged “latte”, showed her a bunch of pictures and her Daddy and I talked about when brown and white come together they make different kinds of light brown. Tan, Caramel, latte- any of those can be acceptable forms of her skin color.

We talked about the fact that God made her like that and she’s perfect just the way she is, but she doesn’t really get that too much yet either. (Sometimes we talk about Jesus watching her and that kinda freaks her out- “I don’t like Jesus watching me Mom, where is He?“)

We don’t want her to think she’s just brown or just white, because sometimes she says that she’s “white like Daddy,” and we correct her and tell her she’s both. Cause she’s not white. But she’s not black.

She’s just amazing.

How would you handle that talk with a toddler?

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Image Credit: Book Table

“This is a paid review for BlogHer Book Club but the opinions expressed are my own.”

I’ve never heard of Geneen Roth, but snatched up the opportunity to read her book Lost and Found: One Woman’s Story of Losing . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: Blog Her Book Club: Lost and Found {Review}]]>

Image Credit: Book Table

“This is a paid review for BlogHer Book Club but the opinions expressed are my own.”

I’ve never heard of Geneen Roth, but snatched up the opportunity to read her book Lost and Found: One Woman’s Story of Losing her Money and Finding her Life from the BlogHer book club.

I am obsessed with money at this point of my life. I never thought I would be a penny pincher or very vigilant about where my money goes, but I am. I don’t budget, mainly because I haven’t found 1. a software that’s easy and quick for me to use to set a budget up and 2. I’d probably stray from it. BUT I am very watchful over our bank accounts and always find myself wondering “how the eff are we going to____” (fill in activity or major purchase or major trip here). I’m just amazed at how many people we owe or how utilities increase like nobody’s business or how much gas, an oil change, whatever costs.

Geneen is very candid as she discusses her family’s struggles (and those of friends) with the loss of their entire life savings thanks to the Bernie Madoff scandal and how she had to take a step back and truly examine her relationship with money. She really takes you inside of her life (and her mind) including her extreme struggle with a pair of very overpriced sunglasses she wanted to buy in New York (which surprisingly, a sales clerk in the store talked her down from after failed attempts from her husband and mom).

I think she highlights really well how we can be so removed from the money we spend, mostly because we know that money is the gateway- we need money to get things and maybe sometimes, we just buy with our eyes closed.

There will be a conversation going on over the next few weeks at BlogHer on the book and of course, on money. Join us?

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I also hate loafers with no . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: Weekly Hate: Round 6]]> 1. I was watching Watch What Happens Live this week and Andy created a new game: “The Anger Games”. It goes like tihs: How angry does __ make you? Then, you answer. He brought up sandals and socks. Yes, that makes me angry- I hate that.

I also hate loafers with no socks. PLEASE STOP DOING THIS! The husband and I have decided that this may be an oxymoron that you rock sandals and socks, but then wear loafers with no socks? Loafers are closed toed, sandals are open toed. STOP IT.

2. Parents who go to the park and don’t pay attention to their kid.

We took Pea to the park last weekend and lady and her husband brought dinner to the park with their five kids (I’m thinking 8/9 years old, 6, 4 and 2)- wow, cool idea… we should bring dinner to the park one day. They had a pizza and a soda (though I’d skip the soda). She is screaming across the park at her maybe 2 year old kid to get off of these bars that she could easily slip through because of the gaping hole and bust her face open. In the meantime, she’s chattin’ it up with her husband with her back to her daughter. Well, in the blink of an eye her daughter is on these very high bars with gaping holes about to take a step and fall right through I jump up ready to save her daughter and I shout “Ma’am- your daughter!” And what does she say? “Oh my God thank you so much, NO GET DOWN, GET DOWN, ARE YOU CRAZY?!” And this continues the entire time we’re at the park.

Watch your kid lady. Watch. Your. Kid.

3. I hate when I go to a fast food restaurant for a milkshake and my milkshake tastes like the last 6 milkshakes that have run through the machine. Please make separate openings for each flavor. Just sayin’. If I wanted a strawberry flavored vanilla milkshake, I woulda asked for one.

4. I hate that loading the dishwasher is some sort of lost art that I was not well trained in. It doesn’t matter which-a-way you put those dang things in there SOMETHING is not washed well. Dried food or overturned tupperware that has dirty water sitting in it or SOMETHING. I’m over it. They need to put a diagram or tutorial on the inner door of the dishwasher for losers like me who can’t figure it out.

Happy Friday and Happy Easter weekend if that’s your thing.

What are you hatin’ on this week?

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I was on the interstate, which… some days I take it and some days I don’t.

I look up and I see some dude standing on an overpass above the interstate and I think “What the fuck…? What’s this dude doing?”

I promise . . . → Click Here To Read The Full Blog Post: I Hate Douchebags]]> This morning I was driving to work- as usual.

I was on the interstate, which… some days I take it and some days I don’t.

I look up and I see some dude standing on an overpass above the interstate and I think “What the fuck…? What’s this dude doing?”

I promise it was by the grace of God that I knew that turd was gonna do something stupid.

He reaches into his black backpack and takes out a plastic bottle which he then proceeds to drop down into traffic on the interstate.

WHAT THE FUCK?!

And whose car was in the way? Mine!

I take a super quick look over my left shoulder, swerve into the left lane and quickly swerve back into my fuckin lane so I don’t get hit by all the ppl coming at me at 75+ miles an hour.

FUCKING JACKASS

That was all I could think.

What the hell?

Who does that?

(And really the answer is lots of dipwads… I’ve heard so many news stories about people dropping shit onto the interstate from an overpass- including bricks)

And then I’m like what if I didn’t see him? What if I didn’t swerve in time and…

HOLY. SHIT.

Cue inner dialogue:

That fuckin bottle clipped my car.

Did this mofo just dent my car?

My new (to me) beautiful, I’m so in love with it car?

Now I’m mad.

Cause I swear if I get outta this car at work and there’s a dent I am going to flip!

Absa-fuckin’-lutely flip.

I’m calling Chris. Cause this is some bullshit right here.

I coulda fuckin died.

I coulda had my windshield cracked and dammit I just paid for a new fuckin windshield.

And seriously? Who the FUCK DOES THAT?!?!

**End Inner Dialogue**

I call my husband and he’s all like “honey, you need to call the cops.”

And tell them what babe? That a white man in a black jacket with a black backpack who was walking on the overpass dropped a bottle down to the interstate? They aren’t gonna find this dude. 

“Well, sure they could babe, especially if he’s still out there walking around”

Honey, it was right by downtown. There’s probably hundreds of people walking around. And seriously? White man? Black jacket? There’s 800 million (totally exaggerating) white men in Colorado- they are not gonna find this dude.

“Did you know that one time in Omaha some kids dropped a brick from an overpass onto the interstate and they killed someone and got arrested?”

Right. I’m alive (thank God) and I think the cops will laugh at me thinking I’m sending them on some wild goose chase for a white dude in a black coat.

“Sorry babe. I’m glad you’re okay. Did it hit the car? What kind of bottle was it?”

Hell. Fuckin. Yes. It hit my car and if I have a dent?!?! Mothafucka!
It was a plastic bottle. Stupid asshole. Why would he do that?!?

And this went on for about 10 minutes until he calmed me down enough to go to work.
Moral of the story? Don’t drop shit from the overpass onto the internet.

Cause only douchebags do that.

And I hate douchebags.

Fuckin turd.

/End Rant… Carry on with your day.

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