SuperSatellite ||

Okay, so you remember when I mentioned how the pop machine at work was flirting with me? Yeah well, apparently it really wants to get in to my pants or something, as yesterday not only did it give me a free pop, but also a dime! Damn right. I think it just likes me pushing its buttons. That dirty machine. Mmmmmm….inanimate object sexing. Sorry, went to a bad place there.

I hit a raccoon last night. I’m sorry. I don’t understand animals fascination with running under cars at night, or rather their inability to keep from doing so. Once I ran in to traffic for fun, played a little dodge car, but the first time one clips you, spins you into another car, flips you over the hood and in to the windshield, then drops you about five feet on to the pavement, it really loses its fun. But at least I can predict that happening. I just choose to ignore it. Animals seem to lack that predicting ability. What’s funnier is how we react. “Oops, just a raccoon.” “Look at that squirrel pancake!” “Holy shit! That was the biggest fucking beaver I’ve ever seen! Oh well, dead now. Shithead.” But if it’s a kitten or a puppy….totally different. I saw a squished kitten on the way to rehearsal the other night, it was terrible. You might as well throw a baby out there and back over it a couple times (How many babies does it take to pave a road? Depends on how flat you crush them.). It’s a whole different league though. As Denis Leary put it: Cow -”I’m an animal, I have rights!” Man-”No you don’t, you’re a fucking baseball glove now get on the truck!”

Okay, so fair enough, that was pretty horrible huh? What can I say? I’m a horrible person. Who loves dead baby jokes and roadkill sammiches.