damn you angry birds

This is what I should be doing: (Read: Creepily holding my keyboard to my face and smiling strangely while I claw you out a new blog post. HAPPY HALLOWEEN KIDDIES. CACKLE CACKLE CREAKY HAND POINTING AND MORE CACKLING. Ahem.)

Instead I am doing this on my phone: (Yea, Yea, I know I am late to the Angry Birds party/obsession).

(By the way, how the hell do I beat this level?)

SOME PERSON I know (hi little sister!), when informed I had finally crossed over to the Angry Birds dark side, MAY have gone into a lengthy discussion about the number of hours she and her coworkers compete daily via Angry Birds. (They pause when one of them has to (and I quote) 'do work.') Then she started talking about Golden Eggs and Pig Protective Helmets and I had to hang up on her so I could clear Level 12.

More cackling and creepy fingered blogging soon, my pretties.