If a picture is worth a thousand words, then these four should get me out of the next, oh, eight posts or so.

In the (brilliantly lazy) name of working smarter not harder, I present you a picture medley:

(Photo, courtesy of Big Sexy, a.k.a Jason Mattera, taken on the streets of NYC.)

ME: "Weren't you worried you would embarrass him by taking this?"

BS: “Suzanna, he was homeless and heating his food on a sewer cover. Do you really think I was worried about offending his sensibilities?”

ME: I love when you say my name.

ME: trying to explain the liquor bottles atop my refrigerator to my pastor: “They’re not mine, I swear. Uh, I mean I don’t swear, but they’re not mine. I had to buy them for work.”

HIM: "You work from home."

/Awkward silence.

Story: Driving to church last Sunday, I saw blue-flashing lights ahead and thought, "Weird, an accident on Sunday morning." Turns out, it was even weirder than that. There was a cop KICKING this toilet around in the middle of the road. My best guess is that he wanted to issue a retroactive chin flick to his mother by playing "kick the can" in the middle of Birmingham's busiest highway.

Sadly, my camera is a heathen and was at home sleeping rather then attending church with me so by the time I got back he was gone. Try to imagine the flashing lights and cop. It makes it better. Trust me.

Ps - It's no coincidence that the P.T. Cruiser is leading the pack towards the crapper. It knows where it belongs.

I can only guess this is what a Big-Mac-induced coma looks like. I. have. no. personal. experience. Really ...

In closing, I offer you this:

“A merry heart doeth good as methadone.” (modern interpretation)

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