Desiw,
Woeicjah eiwolskdch iewothidsp. weiothiois woeiicidaghtoisa sdkfjo, owiethskdkfjwithnskgsdsa. wieorjdsldkiesdiaotds.
Translation for the previous phrase:
Hey,
This is what my writing should look like right now. I hit my head harder than I have ever hit it before on the cooler at work, so now my brain has turned into Quaker Oatmeal.
I was minding my own business, stocking the bar at work so that I could provide the humble town of St. Marys with delicious delicatessen excellence. I grabbed the black olives, which I don't even think should be grabbed anyways because they are about as icky as an uncovered sneeze when you have a sinus infection, and I turned to leave the cooler. The cooler door frame, you know..the one that is 5'8'' which enables every employee to walk through with ease BUT ME, was a bit closer than I expected. Thank goodness I was in the store alone because not only did this run in with the stainless steel door jam move my ponytail to the same place it was in my third grade school picture, but it also caused me to yell (pardon me), "Dirty ball sacs on a leprechaun!" I now have a nice knot on my hairline that reminds me I am not 5'7''.
Once I came out of my coma, I decided to make a cake, well a torte. Torte..what a fun word. More like a body function than a type of dessert, but I won't judge. This was a root beer torte. I made my own whipped topping to go on top of the torte!!! Paula Deen, eat your heart out!! But make sure you barbeque it first on a charcoal grill (I'm an expert). I went into my room while my torte was being heated by the oven, and when I returned to check on it, I caught my sister committing a crime of beverage. You see, she thought no one would come in the kitchen, so when I came in, she got the "O poo, I didn't think you would come in while I was doing this," look on her face. What was she doing you ask? She was making Kool Aid..not just any Kool Aid, it was basically a block of sugar that was dampened by a little water and sprinkled with a Kool Aid packet. I caught her mid-dump; she had our giant sugar container in her hands and was DUMPING it into the jug. God Bless America! Colin asked if I taught her a lesson...nawww...when she is urinating Pez candies, she will realize she may have added a little too much.
Tomorrow, I start my training to become a WWE diva. Colin has gotten me into this obsession with WWE (wrestling). NEVER in a gazzillion years would I have thought I would like it. Now, I want to be a diva. All I need is about 5 more abs, 2 fake boobs, and some hair extensions...I'll start with sit ups. So if you are keeping track, that means I want to be a woman wrestling, pastry baking, tree hugging, poem writing giraffe. I won't forget you when I'm famous.
Keep Letting It Be,
Em
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