I haven’t been blogging a lot lately, which is odd because all I’ve been thinking about is writing.
OH MY GOD – an ice cream truck is outside my apartment! This gorgeous weather is perfect for luring people into purchasing frozen butter fat to shovel into their drooly maws. But that description just ruined it, huh? Sorry.
The other day, I saw this sign outside the grocery sto’ and caused quite a commotion giggling and taking a pic:
I know that we need all sorts of people to do the myriad of jobs that make the world go ’round but I’m thinking Meat Apprentice is pretty much the bottom of the (pork) barrel. Is this a job you default into or do people aspire to work in the meat field? Also, how is the meat field different from porn?
I didn’t used to find things like this as funny as I do now, until I worked at the State with the most meat–obsessed boys I’ve ever encountered. They even made plans to convert my zippy Honda Civic into a meat wagon, for the storage and preparation of meat for the masses. It’s because of them that I regularly find things like bacon cheese baconburgers, beer cheese cupcakes with bacon cheddar cream cheese frosting, maple-bacon lollipops, candied-bacon ice cream, bacon bras, pocket bacon, and chicken-friend bacon. And those are just links from last week. That’s what happens after years of working with constant meat chatter in the background. Somehow your destiny becomes intertwined with meat, an odd plight that.
The take away here is to never work for the State.
I’m off to sew but before I go, look at Abby’s sweet toe feathers. Awwww!!