soo remember my post from yesterday about being evacuated from the bookstore i worked in?  yeah?  well they found a BOMB.  A FUCKING BOMB..  in one of the upstairs offices.

last time i checked, i live in a little valley of hippies, rednecks, posers, and dirty ass crusty kids..  not a town where people just send FUCKING BOMBS to random ass offices for no real apparent reason.

and then i started going..  i could have died.

DIED.

at a second hand bookstore.

crushed most likely by falling shitty romance novels, or smooshed flat under stacks of self help books.  it would have been raining pages of twilight and nora roberts books forever in a bookstore induced nuclear fallout of sorts.

i almost went boom you guys..  for serious.

and then where would you go to on tumblr? 

at the same time, i'd probably rather die at a second hand bookstore than at my other job..  because at my other job, i'd probably die from a fat old person crushing me, and like my friend said, thats far smellier and greasier..  and not nearly as poetic as dying surrounded by musty old books.