Dear ,
This is what my last few weeks have looked like; I won an Emmy.
 Battled
a brush with death in my kitchen with my beloved George Foreman Grill,
despite the fact that my two geriatric fire extinguishers refused to
ex-ting. Grounded my son. Met Dr. Oz.
Lost my new phone. Found my new phone. Bounced a check. Found a $100
bill that I forgot I hid from myself. Scored 4 for 4 with family April Fool's pranks. Waited in line
all night at Buffalo Wild Wings Grand Opening so my son could win a
year's worth of free wings. Won a year's worth of free wings.
Realized the extreme insanity of waiting in line all night in order to
spend the next 52 Friday nights at Buffalo Wild Wings. Got $20 in extra
bucks on my CVS receipt. Texted my friend and hit send the moment I
realized he was sitting two tables away at Starbucks. Washed seven
loads of laundry on the first sunny Saturday of the season. Saw three
Broadway plays, compliments of my Emmy goodie bag, which also held a
netty pot, a can of Campbell's Tomato Soup but no partridge in a pear
tree. Peeled 14 potatoes in ten minutes (my previous best time was one potato per minute, yay me). Burnt my hand
(dinner comes around every friggin' night). Stepped on a pop
top, blew out my flip-flop, cut my heel had to cruise on back home.
<silence>
Okay, the part about the pop top was an exaggeration but the rest, I
swear, is true. Whether I was in sync with the universe or out of sync,
my recent past (Read More..)
|
