Real reason why I can no longer work in the fast food industry.

-Day 69. The secret to success is to treat all customers as if your world revolves around them.-

I'm finally coming clean and telling you why I retired from working in the fast food industry. I know you thought it was because I moved on to bigger and better things but no, it was the fact that I can't have more than 3 things in my brain at the same time.

If, for example, somebody were to order a chicken sandwich, fries, soda and then they'd sneak in an order of mushrooms BOOM! I'd forget my name.

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I recognized this flaw in myself, I hung up my apron and moved on to bat wrestling.
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My plea now is for my fellow FFW (Fast Food Workers). If you can't give somebody their Cheeseburger exactly as they ordered it (everything with grilled onions) maybe it's time you came to work with me at the Asylum.

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I'm only suggesting this because I don't want another hungry soul to go home and bite into their burger only to be disappointed and cry because it's missing the grilled onions. What kind of barbarian eats burgers without grilled onions?

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Anyway, give me a call and I'll hook you up with a registered nutcase.

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Love,

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Bee

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I'm easily distracted by:

Tarako Kewpie 30 seconds. C R E E P Y

My replacements looks more like me than I care to admit! Might be the schnauze.

-DAY 68.

I'm excited to report that I have found the solution to my Spooning problem!
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Who knew IKEA would come to my rescue in my desperate times.
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I told my beloved hubby of ALMOST 7 YEARS COME APRIL 16th (day after the tax deadline, we figured we needed 2 things to stress about every year) that I was going to buy him a substitute to cuddle with.

Behold Hippodot:



She is huggable and squeezable with no danger of being strangled to death unlike her human counter part who wakes up after her air supply is cut off in the middle of the night. You know, that might explain why I've become so forgetful. Lack of oxygen to my brain...





If you think poor Hippodot has a pitiful look on her face now, imagine what she'll look like 7 years from now...
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I did give him a choice between an alligator and a hippo but he left it up to me to choose. Of course I chose the one which would be better blog material! ;op

I must analyze my dreams for they will tell me about the spider monkey.

Day 67. Great Heavens! It's one of those nude female Fire Stations!- Mr. Burns after walking into a strip joint.

So...

Thursday night I went to bed and obsessed about the fact that my post hadn't been very imaginative.

I thought "Dang it!" (I'm back to exclaiming but I'm going to stop swearing, I'm practicing for a super duper trip I'm taking this summer so my potty mouth will be censored to see how long I can go.) (Any guesses how long it will take before I blow it? I mean, I'll probably still swear in my head but not out loud. Andy can be the narc.) (Don't you wonder why I bother with the parenthesis? Me too) "I have about 300 more days to go!"

Anyway, as I was struggling to breathe, TRAPPED in the teaspoon position while the tablespoon snored, my brain in between sleep and awakedness*, I finally solved The Bermuda Triangle mystery!

I did! I figured it out! My next thought was "Oh, I hope I remember tomorrow..." Lately, I've been having great ideas for posts but then I forget them as soon as I blink. They ebb outta my hard head that quickly. Here's an example:

Great Idea. Blink. G o n e.

See? What the heck happens?

Back to The Bermuda Triangle.

I decided to slowly and quietly gnaw off Andy's arm so that I could write down my thoughts and not forget.

This morning I woke up, excited to read my epiphinical* musings! I thought "I'll be famous! My name will be in history books and Natalia's grandchildren will say 'She was my great-aunt, NAY! Awesome Aunt!'."

I looked at what I wrote and this is what I saw:

bermut treangle magnet cargo shit mass whirlpool no surviving burps

Either I was:

A) Asleep and dreaming I was awake.

B) Awake and high.

C) My subconscious was abducted by aliens and/or the government to keep quiet and they are the ones orchestrating the weirdness that goes on in that area of the world for their own selfish needs such as Pineapple hoarding and transportation of a new breed of dogs that walk on their hind legs and clean up their own poop and they removed the truth and left me with gibberish.

Oh well, maybe next time.

If you do solve the Bermuda Triangle mystery, look for all my ideas, they might be hidden under a couch that disappeared in 1953. Try the corner near Puerto Rico.

*I know it's not a word but I have an illness. It's called butcheritis- A habit of butchering both the English and Spanish languages.