So, since I obviously missed posting about some uber important happenings in my life, which I'm sure you guys are bummed out about [winky face], I will have a new series called "Bee Muses Flashback Edition" and when you see that, I want you to picture that weird wave they do on a TV sitcom when the characters scrunch up their face to simulate deep thought or a memory sequence and then they make the screen go all wavy and they play that harp music. Got it? Good!
So here is the first installment:
*Dorooroodorooroodorooroo (Wayne's World! Picture Wayne's World!)*
At the beginning of time, the powers that be at Arkham Asylum instituted Treat Day and designated Thursday as the day to fill the tiny kitchenette with saturated fat. Mmmmm!
For over 20 years women would complain about what some people brought and practically dry hump others that brought their favorite homemade goodies (I'm glad I was always in the other category!) For over 20 years, every Thursday, one unlucky woman would be in charge of making all the other dissatisfied women happy by bringing in cupcakes, cheese, crackers, spreads, chips, peanuts, cakes, dips and wretched, awful fruits and veggies (that was me and let me tell you that I would get hell for daring to eat healthy!). Religiously, every Thursday, after morning meeting, there would be a shuffle to the kitchenette and ladies would announce their verdict on how the poor lost soul fared on her day. Every Thursday, that is, until a certain shawty decided she had had enough. It was time to break this unhealthy tradition of woman bashing and unhealthy fat consumption. That woman, ladies and gents (I had originally typed *ladies IN gents* because that is where my mind is dontcha know?), was yours truly!
[hold for applause]
I gathered my strength because I knew this battle would be another one for the Arkham Archives and brought up the subject at morning meeting.
"Ladies, on this great day in April, I propose we no longer have a weekly treat day.
--loud murmur interruption-
Let me finish. I ask that we only have treat day once a month as supposed to on a weekly basis.
Hear me out. Now that PD has retired, Milton has become obsessed with the amount of times she has to be Treat Marm per year.
--Milton: Well, I. Well. Yes. I. Too many times. Ratio versus calculus and variable.
I personally am sick and tired of hearing about it. What say you, kind and beautiful womenfolk?"
[I clear my throat] "Okay, if not once a month how about not at all?"
--Mutterings were heard: "Heathen! Selfish! Nice hair!"
[I gather my whacking stick] "Erm, so, yay or nay?"
Glynda: I leave it for the majority to rule.
Out, in the far far distance, I see one hand slowly rise. Milton! I knew you'd come through for me buddy! Then a second hand pops up. CL! I knew you'd jump on my wagon because I control your pee breaks! Then, one last hand makes its way up (well, it's really 2 hands but I count SC and Toto as one because they lovingly share one brain) (what? I'm not mean! I said *lovingly!) and I breathe a sigh of relief and lower my whacking stick.
So, after 20-something years, one woman has done what no one else has had the chocolate balls to do. I have successfully eliminated weekly treat day!! Woohoo!
Yep. I have proved that if I set my mind on it, I can accomplish anything! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm trying to turn my electric bill into money and Tazz into a maid.