The things I do for money, restraunts that run out of food, cooking=prozac, and my pacemaker is a decepticon

Friday & Sat.
Friday evening, a couple of my friends and I drove up to B's cabin again to make some cold hard cash and spend time with her father Morely. Morely was offering us 10 buckaroos an hour to clean the cabin, and other cowboyish tasks for the men to do. This trip truly proved to me that if you took a beard and put it on B's face you would have an exact replica of Morely. Scary. We stopped in Globe at some po dunk trailer looking restaraunt with the word hog somewhere in the name. i was super excited because they are supposed to be well known for their jalapeno corn bread. In my food pyramid there are 3 food groups; cheese, cornbread, & mash potatoes.(in that order) Good cheese is easy to find, but good cornbread is a dying breed. So, we sit down and this chick with five names and a mullet is waiting on us. The rest of the group orders, and when she gets to me, I say my coined phrase, "all I want is some cornbread". Then the most horrifying thing happens, Phillis sue jean mullet head tells me they are completely out! The nerve! Then I ask for a side of mash potatoes and gravy instead. They were completely out. In my book, this meant there was no food to order, and when a resturaunt is out of food, I would say its closing time. (the above picture is my reaction to this disgusting ordeal) I ended up ordering a a burger with swiss and blue cheese. At least they had something on my pyramid.

The next morning we woke up at the butt crack of dawn, had breakfast and got to work. I cleaned that cabin from top to bottom for a straight 12 hours. by the end I could barely move. This was the most manual labor I have done in my entire life! Never again will I sink to this level to pay a phone bill. I passed by the first 23 years of my life with only doing lite house work, and this made up for all that time.

Before we headed home, we stopped at the lodge to socialize and eat free food. There we met some local celebs, and i was hoping to meet a single wealthy beau I could marry. No dice in that department. But, I did meet the father of the baby in the movie Raising Arizona starring Nicolas Cage, and the owner of The Coffee Shop, a hot spot among all the cool kids(which is why I had never heard of it). After everyone but me had sufficiently stuffed themselves with fried chicken headed on a gassy ride home. Seriously, everyone had the worst farts ever!

Sunday
I love B...in small doses mostly. She is my bestest friend in the world, but man she knows how to push my buttons. We have a "love to be haters" relationship. This is ghetto speak for we love to annoy and fight with each other. I have abnormally low blood pressure, but get me in the same room for longer than an hour with B and my blood pressure is at the other end of the spectrum.I have just spent 2 weekends cooped up in a cabin with B. Sunday is a day of rest, and a day to be B free. B had been in my apartment all day and i just couldn't take it. My blood pressure boiled over into a high pitched scream...soon after B left, and I began to cook like a mad woman. Instantly, I felt human again instead of a giant monstrous squid of rage.

Monday: Today

I made the time consuming trek to my parent's house this morning to pick up my brother's truck. My dad inconvieniently borrowed my car to take him, my bro, and sis to Utah. Recently my parents got a tune up on the truck and supposedly it is runs smoother. I hate driving the truck. Whenever anyone sees me get out of it, they always make comments like. " Omg, That's totally like the truck Bella drives in Twilight (hair flip)". I hate Twilight. That series is a skid mark on the reputation of all the classic vampire literature. I pull out of the drive way and down the street toward a gas station, I soon relize that it takes all of my upper body strength to turn around corners. The power steering is completely shot! so naturally I take it back to the mechanic that just fixed it, spending the 20 bucks I just put in the tank. I let my friend Shane take the wheel, because he's a personal trainer and is less likely to wreck due to lack of upper body muscle. As soon as we pull into the complex of Mesa Auto Works, the power steering kicks in and works just fine. This can only mean one thing...My pacemaker is a decepticon. I have a running history of jamming up electronics, and I lay the fault on my pacemaker. It must be using its magnetic force feild to make electronics malfunction and give me static cling and a frizzy Jew fro.