Site icon The Bloggess

I don’t have a title for this because I’ve run out of puns. Please insert your own.

I promise to stop writing about giant metal chickens next week, but before we move on I thought I’d share a photo that my friend Erica snapped in Houston.

 
I can only assume that the woman who lives here hasn’t been allowed to buy towels for *decades*.

See?  It could be so much worse.

PS.  I pointed out to Victor that I’d made $200 selling violent chicken cards on the internet and he said that was awesome, and then I explained that now I could go buy two more chickens and then Victor asked whether he should bury my body in the front yard or the back yard.  Because apparently Victor doesn’t understand to concept of “reinvesting in the business“.

PPS.  I was planning on secretly inching Beyoncé a little closer to Victor’s office window each day until he was finally glaring right into Victor’s window, but when I went to move him I noticed that there was a flying wild boar perched on Beyoncé’ head.

Well, that's...unexpected.

Victor swears he didn’t do it so I can only imagine that this is a sign of the impending acockolypse.  Victor said it was probably the neighbors, and then I sat there in silence and Victor finally shook his head and asked if I was being so quiet because I was struggling to think of more cock puns (which would have been insulting if it wasn’t also totally accurate).  Then he sighed and graciously admitted that “perhaps Beyoncé is going incocknito”.  And that is exactly why I love that man.

PPPS.  Several of you have asked for Beyoncé T-shirts.  Here you go:

The probably-not-safe-for-casual-day version.

And the version that probably won’t get you fired.

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