Stuffed Penguin on my Shoulder

Sometimes titles for posts are a pain to come up with. ‘Cause you want them to be grand, glorious and witty, and there are just some days that I feel none of those things. Then their are days like today when I could rant on and on about how ridiculous I am, how I’m at work on a Sunday, or how I’ve been listening to top 40s radio all weekend and thus am humming the Crush song by David Archuleta all the time now. But instead I thought I’d sum it all up with a single sentence…

There is a stuffed penguin sitting on my shoulder.

And no, that isn’t the start to a bad joke. It’s like West WIng’s Indians in the Lobby and S’s Navajos with nachos, there really is a stuffed penguin sitting on my shoulder. It helps with my posture and forces me not to slouch or I’d drop and hurt Pengie who was purchase at the South Pole, but made in New Jersey.


But aside from the fact that I’m headed straight for the looney bin (as the English One said…the election can’t be over until you’ve been committed to a mental facility), the weekend has been jam packed. Including a drive to the airport, a two hour drive home to vote early, the conference call from the underworld, A’s bday dinner (Happy Birthday A!!), and work on a Sunday.

I can’t wait until Wednesday.

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