I may be dressed for Southie. But I’m not in Southie.
James is out with car trouble, so I’m doing what I normally do, which is fine, too. Cus it means I’m working with my buddies. My peeps.
I have a fingernail that’s increasingly resembling the point of an arrow. Or a dagger.
So don’t mess with me.
It’s been a pretty uneventful day thus far. I’m getting a haircut this afternoon. I don’t have any funny or interesting anecdotes to share.
Atomic F-bomb is in here. He’s always very nice to me, though. He calls me “Dear,” but pronounces it “Dee-ya.”
Rick dropped tons of F-bombs, too. Usually, it doesn’t really bother me.
Most men are careful around me until I start cussing, too. Then they let loose.
I use the F-word sparingly in front of others. I use it more if I’m in my car and no one else can hear me. Is that weird?
Gemba walk must be over, Gavin just walked in.
Oops, I should probably get going. Have a good rest of your morning. Make something awesome happen for me.