Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Emails From Sara While She Is "Working": Episode 2 - Junior's Revenge

Sara went out last night with her friend, Haley, who’s visiting Seattle for a couple of days from WSU. She informed Mom and Dad of this plan earlier that day. The details of what transpired with the oh-so-rambunctiously fun Haley aren't important, but Sara’s feeling pretty slow at work at the moment. Slow enough, apparently, to type in third person. What a tool-kit.

At 8:30 AM, Sara got a call from Mom.

Mom: Where are you?
Sara: …at work. Where are you?
Mom: Oh. What did you do last night?
Sara: I went out with Haley. Do you not remember me telling you about this?
Mom: Oh, I guess you did say something about that. You didn’t answer my call last night, so I assumed you were hooking up with some guy*. you decided to call and check up on that?
Mom: Were you?
Sara: Was I what?
Mom: Doing the nasty with a boy?
Sara: Oh for the love of god…NO!
Mom: Are you sure?
Sara: I cannot believe we are having this conversation right now. It’s too early for me to deal with this.
Mom: I just wanted to make sure you had fun!
*She was assuming Sara was battening down the hatches.(Click on the link if you're confused by the nautical zinger)

After being harassed about her sex life by her mother, Sara decided it was time to touch base with Lindsay via E-mail:

8:42 AM
I forgot an undershirt and you can totally see my bra through my blouse. And I’ve been walking around with my pants mostly and very visibly unbuttoned for a good half an hour. I am such a clusterfuck. I don’t know how I get through life in one piece. I am legitimately baffled.

9:51 AM
Flip flop flippity boop!

The little flap of skin on my thumb came off. I can’t tell if it’s more gross now or less. But I fully intend on showing it to a statistically significant sample size to find out. I want results I can RELY on, damnit!

9:54 AM
Never will I ever get tired of almonds.
Going to lunch today sounds like fun.
To infinity, and beyond!
Give me something to do.
You know, I think I prefer briefs to boxers. In some cases. On men of course. Not on me.
Up yours, you judgmental butthole!


(Lindsay didn’t get this. I hope SOMEONE reading does and shames her appropriately.)
<Addition by Lindsay> Why the fuck is it called a rickroll? I've included a Wikipedia reference for certain people (read: my husband) who aren't hip to the internetz. I at least know what Reddit is. 
<Addition by Sara> Because the song's by Rick Astley, numbnuts.

10:08 AM
Why didn’t you reply to me on Facebook? Or to any of these emails? Do you not love me anymore????????
My head kind of hurts. I wonder if I have a tumor. I guess that would explain a lot.
Poking the spot that hurts was not the best idea.
I have a total fast food craving right now. I just want McDonalds in and around my mouf.
IN and AROUND! Do you HEAR ME???
My nails are kind of gross. I think I need to take a shower. Or a bath. A bath sounds better.
When and why do you think people starting using rubber duckies? They don’t serve any purpose other than bobbing there like some pretentious bathtub nymph.
“Oooooh, look at me. I’m yellow and buoyant!”
Fuck you, rubber duckie.
I guess that will forever be one of life’s greatest mysteries.
Maybe I’ll solve it and win a Nobel Prize?
Do you think rubber duckie research is a category?
Fuck it. I’ll make it one.
First I’ve got to somehow get control of whatever organization makes decisions about the Nobel Prize.

Finally, after more than 2 hours of heartbreak and nail-biting while waiting for a scrap of validation from the only sister Sara has ever had, Lindsay replied:

Lindsay: Wow. So the Pathfinder tune-up is going to end up being around $1500. Looks like I’m selling my body this weekend.
Sara: Ouch. That sucks. Well, hike your boobs up, slip on some heels, and find a corner.
Lindsay: I don’t understand anything you are saying to me.
Sara: I was encouraging you to get ready to sell yourself.
Lindsay: I thought you were telling me to get dressed up and pee in a corner.

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