How remiss of me...

How could I forget to relate these two stories?

1. "Karma's a Bitch"
Firstly, you must know that I am nowhere close to being a vegan or animal-rights activist by any stretch of the imagination. I grew up in a family where deer season is ranked right next to Christmas and Thanksgiving as a major holiday. I can skin a deer with the best of them, and I was the kid with one hand in a wheelbarrow of entrails and the other hand holding an anatomy book. So long as there is a purpose behind the hunt, I'm fine. With that being said, I could never be the one to shoot the deer. I can't deal with looking down the scope, seeing those big brown doe eyes looking back at me, and pulling the trigger. And as much as I love fishing, I struggle with putting a fish through pain if I don't plan on eating it. And yes, I'd rather play with the worms in a dish of dirt than impale them on a hook. With all of that said, on my drive to work early last week, I hit and killed a female cardinal. I cried the entire way to work. Cried as if someone had run over my cat. Cried as if I'd just watched Wit with Emma Thompson or the scene in The Lion King when Mufasa died. As recompense, Mother Nature evened the score on the drive home. I was, once again, singing lead vocals with all of the windows down. I had less than 10 minutes before I would be home when a bird graced the top and inside of the car door, the driver's seat, and, oh yes, my arm with well-aimed, runny, white poo. My reaction? I laughed.

2. "Say 'Ello to My Leetle Friend"
I am known in the office as the barefoot dancing girl who never stops smiling. I keep waiting for someone to tell me to stop doing one or all of the above or to tell me that I'm just plain crazy. I certainly give them no reason to think that I'm crazy... This past Monday we had paused a long meeting to go, en masse, out to lunch. Big Kahuna, standing with BA and El Presidente, was trying to figure out riding arrangements and was therefore counting people. She calculated her tally and announced, "Seven." "No," I corrected her, "Eight. There's my friend, Bob, here," and indicated the 4-inch invisible guy on my left shoulder. Maybe I'm just used to my wackiness, but I really didn't expect the blank stares and "what the..." expressions. After I explained that Bob was my good friend since way back in high school (I met him in P.E.), BA decided that I needed rescuing and tried to shield me from further making an arse out of myself by stepping in front of me. (Or was he trying to shield everyone else from me?) Goofy mood that I was in, I poke my head out to his left and grin. He swerves to the left in an attempt to hide me, and I poke my head out to the right and grin. Repeat this two-step about 4 more times, and you get all of your co-workers and supervisors staring at you as if you had sprouted little green Shrek ears. I was completely past my pride, however, and on the way to the restaurant, perched a TMNT action figure to stand in for Bob (who had hid in my puka from embarrassment). Craziness is just another spice of life.