"Oh sexy American Giiiirlfriend!!!"

Listen up kids. This is monumental. Nay, it's...blog-worthy. You know you live a sad life when something tragic and dreadful happens to you and immediately you think to yourself..."hey you know what? This would make an awesome blog post!!!" or "This sucks. I'm gonna blog about this." Well today this is true. Actually....every blog post is inspired by real life events. Disclaimer: For entertainment purposes, events in factual stories have been exaggerated-naturally-so if you were present for said event and don't remember something happening, then you should go eat a bowl of hair, cuz you're a dummy because it did...(in my mind!!!)



Today's blog subject grew on me. At first I just thought of it as a creeper who liked to watch me...which actually is not out of the norm of this girl's everyday. You think you learn stuff at school? Well kidlets, play a little hookie with me for one day, float with me on the rainbow express (formerly my Nissan Maxima) for a journey that will take us through the Rocky Road Valley (Rocky Ford Creek), past Bubble gum Junction (Soap Lake/Ephrata Junction), to a magical place called Awesomeville (Ephrata, WA), Population: 2. You+Me. Actual population: 6,808. I call this the exodous.



I need to clarify some newsie lingo for you. A Rack, does not involve cup size, porn stars, meat, storage, or firearms. It involves 2 quarters, a stack-no B&T (band and toss) here-of papes (papers), and a busy place. Like...oh....a Chevron gas station for example. My mommala has a rack there and it is my duty as a sub (substitute) to switch them out every day.



Sidenote: Since the Newspaper is such a classy establishement, I tend to dress up. I put on a bra. Thus making me sickeningly overdressed compared to the rest of the posh dames I come in contact with at this swanky paper printer. Ninja bun and all, I throw on a sweater and tennis shoes and hit the Yellow Brick road on the Rainbow Express.



No cares. No boss. No makeup. I look hot. Every Day. Drop dead gorgeous. People stare. I can't decide if it's good staring or appalled staring.



I digress. Faithfully, every day the owner of one of the gas stations I frequent and...uh...service?....comes out and stands there. Usually involving stareage of some kind aimed in my direction. As good as that must feel to be stared at, the only ones who can truly sympathize with me are either dead, or a water buffalo.

Stalk this bucko! I'll give you a fake engagement ring in the face!!!