If you’ve been reading my blog for a while you’d know that since getting my last car, I have struck and killed some wildlife. Seriously, I had never hit any animal prior to getting this car. It’s true. Since it’s been a while since I’ve hit anything I was starting to think my car had fulfilled it’s lust for blood, that is, until this past Saturday. While driving back from town, I pulled onto my street and from out of nowhere flew a beautiful woodpecker straight toward my windshield. I applied the brakes, served a bit into the other lane, but BAM!, sadly, it was too late. And so now is the time I give the latest victim of my Murder Car a proper name and a proper eulogy poem, because, well, that’s the kind of crazy I do.

Ode To Woodrow the Woodpecker
A Poem of Eulogy by Laura Ledford

You flew with so much fancy, from tree to tree you flit
But then you hit my windshield, you stupid little shit

I tried to swerve to miss you, but you hit with a thud like a rock
Like something straight out of The Birds by Alfred Hitchcock

And at first I thought I just clipped you, and perhaps you were not dead
But I saw your body flop, and on the window were parts of your head

Now you’ve gone to fly and hunt bugs hopefully in a heavenly sky of blue
Go in peace, my friend, ’till we meet again, and I’m sorry my car killed you

Now if everyone would please hit the ‘Play’ button and bow their heads in a moment of reflection and try to remember Woodrow as he was, not as the feathery flopping, headless mess he left here on Earth. Fly home, little dude. Fly home.

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A few days ago J and I were sitting in a restaurant when J started reading news on his phone. This was the conversation to the best of my recollection:

J: “Oh wow, a teacher showed up for school on her first day drunk and wearing no pants.”

Me: “Was she fired?”

J: “Doesn’t say, but I would think so.”

Me: “Well now, she just went to level ‘non-functioning’.”

J: “What?”

Me: “As in a ‘non-functioning alcoholic.’ I worked with a bunch of drunk bitches that were functioning alcoholics at my last job.”

J: “How’d you know they were functioning alcoholics?”

Me: “Well,  Mister Man, for one thing none of them showed up to work with no pants on. It’s like a litmus test on ‘what kind of drunk are you’ kind of thing.”

J: *sarcastically* ”You know so much about so many things.”

Me: “Yes I do and it’s about time you recognized my brilliance too. Now go out to the car and bring me my pants.”

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I pretty much like all animals. But do you want to know one animal that no matter how much the internet tries to tell me is adorable I find just disgusting and heinous as hell? A sloth.

Ugh.

That is one ugly motherfucker right there. Squishy little head with a soup bowl haircut, beady eyes, and just look at those damned claws! And not only is this creature ugly, but he’s got to stink like shit. Dude doesn’t have an anus. That’s right, NO BUTTHOLE. It shits out of his skin pores! Nasty. Know what else is nasty as hell about this abomination? Besides being so fucking retarded that sometimes he’ll grab his own arms thinking they’re tree limbs and fall to his death, he’s so fucking slow that algae and moss will grow on him.

"Oh, let me pet his beautiful fur." NOT.

Now don’t try to tell me that all of God’s creatures are beautiful or some shit like that. If that were true I’d have gone with cross-eyed Johnny Banks to the prom. These motherfuckers are disgusting and no matter how many pictures are posted or how many videos I watch on the internet of them, I just don’t like them.

Well, okay, that’s kind of cute.

So’s that.

OH GODDAMMIT. Nevermind.

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