BzzPLINK! BzzPLINK! BzzPLINK!
That’s the sound of a goddamn housefly slamming his gross little body against my bedroom window at 6:00 in the morning.
Seriously, what the fuck? It’s December. It’s snowing. It’s twelve goddamn degrees outside. What the hell is a fly doing in my house?
The weird thing is, the fly has woken me up with his little self-flagellation routine on several non-consecutive mornings – and every time I jump out of bed and try to hunt down the little fucker, he becomes totally silent. And is nowhere to be found.
I have drawn two possible conclusions:
- I am crazy
- Jeff Goldblum is trying to stay in my house rent-free for the winter.
Good morning, sunshine!
Entry filed under: Gobble-gobble.