I bought the fancy orange juice at the grocery store today, the one in the glass bottle that isn’t from concentrate.
Last night I woke up in the middle of the night to get my oj fix. Groggy, I reached into the fridge, reached for the glass bottle, and instead chugged down eight ounces of our month old white wine we keep for cooking. And yes, it was eight ounces before my half asleep self realized it wasn’t orange juice.
I shrugged. It’ll help me sleep.
The Chicago Bears fight song was written in 1941 and is still played after every time the Bears score, even on safeties.
The composers second most remember song, “If I knew you were comin’, I’d a baked a cake.”
I was telling Ellen that yesterday, I hadn’t eaten all day and I had to run a whole bunch of errands and didn’t have time to stop, and barely had any cash in my wallet and just needed something quick before work. There was a Taco Bell right next to where I work so I ducked inside. The had a plastic thing on the counter where you could donate money to some charity, but if you caught your donation on the little plastic circle, you’d win a free taco, drink, or meal, depending on if you caught a nickel, dime or quarter. I dropped my quarter in, and won myself a taco salad.
Ellen asked me, “Was it good?!”
I said, “No. It tasted like improv acting classes in 7th grade”
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