Of Pigs and Men

Yesterday was a bit challenging at first. I’m not quite sure why. Maybe it was having an extended long weekend, and then getting back to it. Really, I think it was more everyone’s energy at the beginning of the day was SO inside themselves. No one was willing to play with me. I had to be customer service FACE all morning long, instead of playful me. That thing usually doesn’t happen for me at work. Not often.
And it was busy as shit after the first lazy hour.
Until not one, but TWO fantastic finds came in. Oh happy day! This first one, I MISSED, because it was surrounded by a pile of OTHER pigs from a collection that came in. (Or part of a collection. I just KNOW the lady who brought this in has a whole HOUSE full of pigs. )

I think it’s made of carved marble. Fucking Pigs. yeah buddeh. It was pointed out by a regular custie, who I’ve begun to flirt mercilessly with. WITHOUT MERCY! lol. He pointed this out, and I promptly whipped out my camera to shoot pig porn. Aw yeah. It’s an orgy. You can tell.
Aaaaanyway, the second thing that made my day…

Just LOOK at him! Is he not FRIGGIN DELIGHTFUL? There’s a special place in my heart for dirty old men.
It’s in my pants.
Cackle.
Anyway, Maybe I should start referring to this customer who I flirt with mercilessly as D.O.M. (For Dirty Old Man… don’t be a complete moron. Follow along.) Although, he’s not really THAT dirty of a guy. I’ve defiately met worse. (This is not a challege, by the way, to become worse.)
When I showed him my new statue, he agreed with the sentiment wholeheartedly. With up and downy wiggly eyebrows and everything.
Life is fucking pigs. I mean, Good. Life is fucking Good.

Grace