my 100: Ever notice how your brain loves to hit a panic button over the smallest crap? Self-observance can warn our inner drama queen to chill. When some cretin co-worker gives you that look, don’t sprint to the parking lot to let the air out of their tires. Watching our knee-jerk reactions, we can prevent every minor clusterfuck from exploding – don’t hit send. Next time you're about to lose your shit because someone cut you off in traffic – pause, breathe - it’s not worth a blood pressure spike nor the jail time. My preferred fight or flight response is DON’T HIT SEND.
Outside Birdland, the bouncer, a hulking condor, shook his head, dismissing the flightless penguins. “Go play with the emus.”
One proud penguin scoffed, “I won’t have you dictate my birdness. You’ll let in some chicken who ends up as a breaded nugget, but not us. Do your research. Since the earliest categorization of the class Aves in 1676, flight has NOT been a prerequisite.”
Later that night the club's glass doors were welded shut and windows sealed, from outside.
Birds soared beautifully through the air in breathtaking arcs until slamming bloodily into the barricaded exits.
my 100: Ever notice how your brain loves to hit a panic button over the smallest crap? Self-observance can warn our inner drama queen to chill. When some cretin co-worker gives you that look, don’t sprint to the parking lot to let the air out of their tires. Watching our knee-jerk reactions, we can prevent every minor clusterfuck from exploding – don’t hit send. Next time you're about to lose your shit because someone cut you off in traffic – pause, breathe - it’s not worth a blood pressure spike nor the jail time. My preferred fight or flight response is DON’T HIT SEND.
Okay. Good reminder for when I do lose my shit. It doesn’t happen often because I’ve learned to pause and breathe.
Yours is gorgeous.
Thank you, Scott!
No-Fly Zone
Outside Birdland, the bouncer, a hulking condor, shook his head, dismissing the flightless penguins. “Go play with the emus.”
One proud penguin scoffed, “I won’t have you dictate my birdness. You’ll let in some chicken who ends up as a breaded nugget, but not us. Do your research. Since the earliest categorization of the class Aves in 1676, flight has NOT been a prerequisite.”
Later that night the club's glass doors were welded shut and windows sealed, from outside.
Birds soared beautifully through the air in breathtaking arcs until slamming bloodily into the barricaded exits.
The crime was never solved.
Ha! Those bird brains! This is so twisted, but in a good way.
Cold blooded lol