This is just a little story for you all on this disgustingly
hot Thursdave afternoon. I was sitting on my roof
drinking coffee and having a smoke with some extreme
feelings of self worthlessness. Paul Westerberg was on my
headphones while I texted my brother to see if he wanted
to come over tonight to hang out. Then a bird shit on my leg.
Best yet, I don't have any other pants to change into, so I have
to walk around like this for the rest of the day.
The guy who said that it's good luck when a bird craps on you
was just trying to make up for his own humility.
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