DAMMIT! Where is my taco? How can you ask me if I want anything for lunch, then take my money, and then be gone for such a long time. I want my taco now. I have already eaten a granola bar for breakfast. I washed that down with a cookie (the goddamned Otis Spunkmeyer oven will be the death of me). I've had a Sprite. I just need my Buffalo Chicken taco with the chicken, tangy hot sauce, crumbled bleu cheese, avocado ranch, carrots, and cilantro. Doesn't that sound yummy? I thought so, too! And I want it. And it's not here. And that makes me sad. See: :(

Oh, if you're looking for something to buy for me (that's not listed on my amazon wish list), I'd like to have Glarkware's Urban Asshole Cards please. See, twice in the past week, I've left snotty notes on people's cars. Once in the parking garage here at work that read: "You park like a jerk. An SUV is NOT compact car, nor do you need two spaces" and once in front of my house: "the people who actually pay rent here would appreciate the privilege of parking in front of our own home. Either pull forward or move back". Yeah, I'm a bitch. But I know how to maneuver in between those handy painted white lines. Also, don't fucking doublepark on the street directly in front of my home. It will anger me and I will leave you a snotty note. So, please buy me the Glark cards, so I can stop digging for scraps of untraceable paper to leave my little missives. Thanks!

My taco still isn't here. If I worked higher up than the second floor, I'd consider throwing myself out of the window.

IMPORTANT UPDATE!: I got my taco. I devoured it, along with some guacamole and chips. And now I'm sad because I ate my daily cookie early, and I really want dessert. Guess I'll drink more coffee. How bad can seven cups of coffee truly be?