Note: I changed the awesome news into a game of Mad Libs because I am not 100% sure about protocol with these sorts of things.
In a stroke of good fortune, [noun] has a(n) [adjective] office in the Rocky Mountains, and they are amazing people who are changing the world. "But why did they hire you?" you may ask, sounding strangely like my driving school instructor (who I could never impress, even though they obviously call it a bumper for a reason). "I'll tell you why," I may respond, visibly shaking from an attempt to parallel park. Ummmm.....actually, I'm not sure. Perhaps it was the enthusiasm embodied by my willingness to sleep my way to the top if called upon by such an amazing organization. If nothing else, that would have given a whole new meaning to the aforementioned stroke of good fortune. PLAY ME OFF, KEYBOARD CAT.
Anyway, I celebrated today by doing a long run on Duke's Al Buehler Trail, with nothing but a camera and, after a week without shaving, what can only be described as a five o'clock shadow of leg hair. BECAUSE I DON'T GIVE A SHIT.
| Freud would say it's a sexual metaphor. I hear his mom is pretty hot. |
| PRETENTIOUS ARTSY CAPTION. |
| Parting of the leaves. PUN-TASTIC FIVE! /slaps own hand //looks around empty apartment ///sobs |
no problemo. happy to oblige.
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Thanks Pat! Really appreciate the comment, and the sentiment :)
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