hey-like the title? well, i hadda start this “welcome back roxy” entry out with a bang. i coulda gone full-blown attention hog and spelled “come” slightly differently. but i didn’t. that’s naughty. actually there is a tie-in to that and my life. this guy i’ve liked since i started stalking him freshman year (when i would sit in the back of aural theory and sing “i’m a love sniper-pshew pshew pshew!” and pretend to shoot him) had a dream that we had sex. apparently i’m the things wet dreams are made of. i’m the wet-dreamiest girl you will ever meet. in fact, in sperm banks worldwide, they have decided to wallpaper my face on their walls to provide “inspiration.” 🙂 i’m spermtastic, whats a gal to do?! 🙂 lol. it’s hot and i’m out of practice of being funny–leave me alone.
i’m once again working at the beach. going to work every day is like euthanasia in installments. today i made cotton candy-got some blue from that on me. then i made snow cone juice and got some red on me from that. i got mustard on me from the pretzels. this just in: i got asked to be in joseph and the amazing technicolor dreamcoat. yeah. as the amazing technicolor dreamcoat. or in my case wet-dreamcoat. Ew. Stop it, Roxy.
anyway…today the cash register projectile vomited the drawer across the room…spraying change everywhere. it was like the little spring that pops the door open had od’ed on viagara. how did i handle it? i just looked at it and was like “of course, if you’re not feeling well…” and let my supervisor pick up the change. i’m a diva. once a diva always a diva. and do you know why that is? not bc it’s in our blood. if that was the case i would still be a crackhead. (j/k) it’s b/c we have no useful skills in the real world. im also directing a play ths summer. hows it going? well…red cross has declared it a national disaster and is handing out free coffee and blankets to my play. i will bitch about this in detail later–when you are better prepared for a Roxyfied rant. let’s just say…i forgot how little talent there is in camden. ah yes, good ol’ camden. where the men are men, the women are men and the goats roam freely. let me tell you…to raise your children in this town is child abuse. pure and simple. sigh well it was a stretch…and i think i pulled a brain muscle but i will walk it off and i’ll be back. nnnnkay?
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