I told Jonathan about my day and he said that I should write the following story in my blog. I laughed and said okay. (this post does have cursing because I did curse. I'm not condoning cursing, but sometimes the words exit my mouth).
These past two days I've been too sick to go into work. Yesterday was the worst- I could only work a half day from home and layed out on the couch from nausea and lightheadedness. There wasn't much I could eat and even less I wanted to eat. After seeing a commercial on TV for cheese, I realized "I want a grilled cheese sandwich!"
I bounded as quickly as I was able into the kitchen, got a slice of bread, a slice of cheese, and butter to make a half grilled cheese creation. I warmed the stove, buttered the bread, and listened to it sizzle. Wendy Williams was on TV and she is my absolute favorite talk show host. I sat down to watch her for a few minutes, got up, flipped the sandwich, and walked out again. At the next commercial, I walked back in to flip and saw a charred black half to my once beautiful melty masterpeice.
I started crying saying, "Dammit dammit dammit!" (much like Janet's anguish for her older sister Marcia) as I scraped it off the pan and onto a dirty cookie sheet so it could cool before I threw it away. Tears rolling down my face, I went through the motions again by getting out another slice of bread, a slice of cheese, and butter to make another half grilled cheese masterpeice. I stayed in the kitchen this time, twiddling my thumbs for what seemed forever until it was perfectly cooked. As I took a bite of the freshly made awesomeness, it made me gag.
Dammit dammit dammit.
I poured a small bowl of cheerios and sat down to finish Wendy Williams.