Here's a long one for ya'! ::grabs crotch::

Day 30.
Question.
How many times does a flatulent Scarecrow come and ask about the weather?
Answer.
Eleven and that's only because I drew a picture of a sunny window so she could stay the hell out of the business office!
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****Heads up! This is a very long post because I had a very long day. You can read it in 2 parts if you want. I won't get mad. I promise tomorrow will be 13 words or less.****
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This is an indicator that your day might turn out to be a huge pile of smelly garbage.

If you are merrily driving to work, singing some nonsense pop tune at the top of your lungs, then you notice a garbage truck get in your lane.
Unfazed, you keep singing about gum drops and lollipops when ALL OF A SUDDEN a wet plastic bag full of lord knows what flies out of the back of the truck and lands on your windshield.
<-Bee's car under that.
If this happens to you, cross over to the opposite lanes without caring how many accidents you cause and just go home!
Just go home!
Don’t bother going to work because you will, mostly likely, have the equivalent of a wet plastic bag with crap smeared all over your face. Yeah, I speak from experience.
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As you may (or not) be aware, Glynda went AWOL all of last week. She quit.
When somebody quits, does their work end? No. That means someone else has to do it, right? Am I wrong? I didn’t think so.

When that someone decides to come back and finds some of her work was done in her absence, should she say thank you and move on or should she act like an asstard and try to rip the other person’s hair out?

Seriously, I want to know.

I need to know what the work etiquette is because I don’t want to have to go to the Hair Transplant Center for Women at the early age of 35. Maybe if/when I’m 65, sure.

For today's post we will refer to her as Glynda the Bad Bitch instead of the Good Witch but just for today, unless she continues her behavior. Then we'll just have to find another name for her.
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The shittacular day was threatening to suffocate me so I decided to go put gas (or PETROL) in my car, at $500 a gallon, during my lunch break. You know, before the ice/snow 30 degree temp drop descended upon us later this evening. Oh, excuse me, I stand corrected. Gas prices have dropped so now they’re only at $499.99 a gallon.

Anyway!

The gas station is only half a block away so there I go Tra-La-La-La…
There, in the middle of the street walking at a turtle pace, is a flock of geese trying to get to a patch of grass.
This is obstacle number one.

After they’re nice enough to get the hell out of my way, another garbage truck blocks the narrow two way street. The driver says “I’ll be just a minute honey.”
Obstacle number two makes my eye twitch for many reasons, I don’t like to be called honey by random strangers and I'm still pissed because of my earlier experience with the first garbage truck from hades.

The gas station is packed since everybody and their winged grandmas wants to fill up before the storm.
Okay, I can deal with obstacle number 3 and wait my turn.
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Finally, one opens up and I pull in.
What happens next will go down in the history of “Worst experiences at a gas station" moments in my life (I’ve had a few).

The donkey’s ass behind me decides he’s going to yell at me for not pulling into the OTHER pump.

Being the submissive little woman that I am, I get out of the car and say “I drive a Hyundai genius! Why would I WANT to put DIESEL in it???” the guy started yelling something I couldn’t understand.
I’m assuming he’s saying that if we were in his country, he would have me stoned, and not the good kind of stoned where we all hang out and see magical colors.
I flip the guy off and tell him to go do a special deed with himself (because I'm such a classy lady) and he drives off.
I pull out a squeegee (isn't squeegee a funny word?? Squeegee squeegee sssssqueegeeeeeee) and proceed to clean off the gunky remains from whatever was in the plastic bag.
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Little did I know my friend was just doing a lap around the lot and coming back to where I was.
I’d finished pumping by then but now it’s a battle of wills and there’s no way I’m letting him use the pump just yet, because I’m mean like that, so I decided to mosey into the store and buy myself a nice chocolate bar. Or maybe some twisty BBQ Fritos mmmm!
Ho-Hum I can’t decide. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the guy standing by his car gesticulating wildly (side note, I love the word gesticulate, it sounds so articulate, I also like the word articulate).
I make my purchases, Kit Kat, Whatchamacallit, Flavor Twist Honey BBQ Fritos (I don’t feel like making ONE more decision so I buy everything I want) and walk out.

My irate friend sees me and freezes. He doesn’t look my way, doesn’t say another word. You know why? Because he must have seen the murder in my BEEspectacled eyes. I make sure my car has no spit anywhere (ANDY!), get in my car and come back to the Asylum. Where I sigh and pretend I didn't lose the last ounce of sanity I had stored in my "Sanity Reserve Drawer".
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So, there I am, licking my Kit Kat [snicker], when Glynda asks me to ask Milton for a $5 check made payable to a police department for a hush hush matter.
I go to Milton and say. OZ wants a check for $5 made payable to XYZ police station.

Milton:
Umm... can... did... can I know why?

Bee:
According to Glynda it's hush hush so, no.

Milton:
Well... proper protocol says I need his permission to do a check.

Bee:
He's not here so you can go ask Glynda why.

Milton:
No offense but I can't just write up checks on your say so.

Bee:
Fine. Go ask Glynda.

Milton:
I just mean...--

Bee:
Don't care. Lost interest. Ask Glynda.

Milton:
Well...--

Bee:
OMG!! I. DON'T CARE. GO. ASK. GLYNDA!!!

At this point I wanted to take out the rolled up Fiver I keep in my winter boot for emergencies (for real, one time I needed 4 more dollars to have enough for a cool pair of shoes I saw at Carson's. I had to drive home and get more money!) and mail it my own freakin' self!
I WASN'T ASKING FOR $500 for my personal use. I was asking for FIVE DOLLARS for OZ!
All I could do was picture myself stuffing every single one of her orifices with my flavor twists. And making some new orifices.
Orificeseses.
Please save me.
<-Frito Twist.
::sigh::
Please click on this picture to save my sanity:


P.S.
If you're worried I ate all those snacks, I didn't.