the everyday adventures of sabrina

i'm happy, hope you're happy too

Browsing Posts published by sabrina

so not cool

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Dear Walgreen’s at the corner of Lake Park and 55th Street in Chicago:

what’s the deal with no cadbury’s creme eggs? not the mini ones, the real ones. there weren’t any! this is the one time of year i can get them, and i love them, and you only had those stupid cadbury’s caramel eggs and the dozen pack of the mini creme eggs! WHY NO LOVE FOR THE SIMPLE MAJESTY OF THE ORIGINAL CADBURY’S CREME EGG?!

i want my sugar rush, damn you.

harrumph,
–sabrina.

I am a loud man with a very large hat!  This means I am in charge!

dude.

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Dear White Sox:

that completely sucked.

self-righteously,
–s.

i could just quote April 2 2005’s blog entry verbatim at this point:

dear white sox:

thanks for picking it up, but don’t you think that really we might have been better served by pulling out contreras a little earlier? like, say, the first inning?

i’m just sayin’.

paulie’s still my guy, though.

love and criticism,
–sabrina.

Dear Space Aliens

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dear space aliens,

look, just because you took back Space Alien Buehrle is no reason to give us Space Alien Jose Contreras.

i’m just sayin’.

*facepalm*,
–sabrina

i was on a roll. i was getting things done. i was taking care of business, baby.

i was cleaning my house.

and lo! came that fateful moment. that one in a million chance. that instant where i reached out with my gloved hand, bearing a damp sponge, and wiped away the dust on the flexible hose that connects the water supply with the toilet tank.

the flexible hose which promptly slipped partly out of its bracket and began a slow, dripping leak onto the linoleum.

but i am a capable woman. i can change a flat, i can apply a tourniquet, i can clip an unwilling cat’s claws, and i can handle real crises like leaking pipes. calmly and capably, i flushed the toilet to drain the tank, slid a bucket beneath the hose, and turned the cutoff valve tightly closed.

whereupon the valve began to leak all over the floor too.

and that’s about the point at which i sighed, decided on comfort food hawaiian pizza delivery, and called the caretaker. i may be capable, but i am not even about to get in a bitchfight with the toilet over who is the boss of whom, because i know that that’s a fight with only a loser: wet, frustrated niqui.

and now i’m probably not even compatible with Google TiSP anymore, either.

alas. thwarted!