Thursday, September 11, 2014

I’m in the throes of a dire artificially-flavored milkshake crisis.

I was supposed to go to the podiatrist today at 9 a.m. If you’ve been paying attention, however, that first sentence tells you TWO THINGS: 1) I didn’t actually go; and 2) okay, only ONE thing, which means I should ALSO tell you that I had to cancel at the last minute because I didn’t get out of bed until 8:40 — next time I hope somebody reminds me to remind Sam to wake me up — and I positively did NOT feel like walking out of the house with bed-head, stiff knees (we’re expecting rain), untweezed eyebrows and a shitty attitude. (But please don’t say anything. I simply told the doctor’s office I ruptured something.)

I need a quick show of hands. Would you eat a box of College Inn chicken broth that’s ONE MONTH PAST ITS SELL-BY DATE but still smells okay?
Please respond by email as soon as possible or send me a nice comment because tonight’s dinner might depend on it. Thank you.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before or not, but I’M GETTING IRRITATED WITH WAL-MART. Their service is getting really sloppy and I want to slap somebody.
Four days ago I ordered URGENT EMERGENCY RATIONS online — butt wipes, many bags of Libby’s crumbly ground beef and a six-pack of Glucerna strawberry milkshakes — that STILL HAVEN’T BEEN DELIVERED despite being shipped from a distribution center in Frisco, Texas, about half an hour from here. FedEx tracking showed the original delivery date as yesterday but revised it to today when A Idiot forgot to load my box on the truck; so far, however, it’s nearly 5:30 in the afternoon, my emergency rations are STILL NOT HERE and I’m in the throes of a dire artificially-flavored milkshake crisis. For your possible interest the following map indicates: A) Howdygram headquarters; B) the Wal-Mart warehouse in Frisco; and C) Southfork Ranch, home of Ewings.
Thank you for reading this. I’m too depressed to continue typing.

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