Hey, what's going on? It's Bill Byrne. It's the Monday morning fucking podcast for Monday.

Monday, March 26th. I just had the breakfast of Champions people. I had a fucking, I had an egg over

a EG. A G. Hey lady, will you make that egg take it EG? I had a fucking egg over EG. I had a wheat

English muffin sliced in half. So it's only one but it counts as two and then I finished it off with a slice of

cheesecake. So I got salt and sugar, pumping through my fucking veins. In other words, I am going to go like a

madman for about eight minutes and then I'm going to crash man. I don't feel like doing it anymore.

Let's talk about, let's talk about what else we're going to talk about. Bill, let's talk about your fucking life.

I got a goddamn crow. This is three weeks in a row with the fucking animals. First the squirrels.

Last week it was a moth. This week we got it. I got a crow. I don't know if they built a fucking nest.

As far as I know, crows don't have nests. Am I wrong here? As far as my observance of birds to crows are the drifters.

They just showed us like show up like Clint Eastwood used to do in those cowboy movies and then all the other birds

fucking scatter. Then they sit there with that little fucking hand-rolled cigar, little band-dang around their fucking

bird neck. Anyways, I guess the same way nobody knew that there was a mafia until Robert Kennedy told everybody that there was a mob.

I finally discovered that crows actually have nests that thought they just floated around having one night stands with sparrows.

But evidently they have a fucking nest. Or this crow loves the tree right outside my window.

Because every morning at like 6.30 now, this fucking crow, I don't know what it's doing. I'm sound asleep, right?

I'm getting my beauty sleep. I'm a fucking ginger, right? My face is going to crack up unless I make sure I get eight hours.

I dunk my face in lotion every day. But I don't do that. I look like I was fishing for lobsters.

So every morning, this fucking crow is outside my window just going.

Like for fucking.

And I want to throw, I want to get up and just fucking throw my iPhone at it. That's what I want to do.

But I'm so fucking tired. I can't move. So I just lay there and I dream that I'm doing it.

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