Frozen bags of nibblets make fantastic pillows. If you don't believe ME just ask that kid on the floor.
I was driving to work this morning when a black Lexus suddenly veered in front of me, forcing me to step on the brake harder than the brake has ever been stepped on in the history of stopping things. After I scooped my heart up off the dash and crammed it back down into my chest cavity, I noticed with watery eyes that the Lexus' license plate read "
PYIT4WD".
So on the drive home tonight I made four ridiculously short turns without my turn signal and then cruising through a crosswalk I bumped a guy off his bike while screaming, "I AIN'T GOT TIME FOR PEDLIN'!" out the window. Oh, and then I tripped an eight-year-old in the frozen aisle of the Safeway. Just to really go above and beyond. I'd hate to have a balance on my PYIT4WD tab.
There's a new girl starting at work tomorrow. In celebration I announced not only would I be arriving for work in different pants, but that I would be bringing homemade cinnamon rolls with me.
I just finished kneading the dough, and I realize now I bought
cumin instead of
cinnamon. Is that a major problem? I'm really more of a
cook than a baker. I'm really more of an
eater than a cook. I'm really more of a
sleeper than an eater. I'm really more of a
coma-riding frozen fossilized caveman than a sleeper.
So how much ground round goes in the icing, you think?
Okay. I've got pants to wash.
Quickly! And then I've got to climb back in the freezer for naptime! To prevent my delicate antique epidermis from thawing!
