August 2009
4 posts
Boys don't cry...Sheesh.
After Pete & I had our great (& surprising) time at Great America, it was back to business. I had very important tasks to complete at work. Like washing all the coffee mugs, answering the weird looking phone with way too many buttons, and avoiding Pete at all costs.
Not an easy fete when you’re the receptionist. Word.
Why would I avoid poor, old Pete? Poor old, toothpick coaster...
Not so Great America...
Pete decided to take a baby like myself to a place babies love. A theme park. So we went to Six Flags Great America.
But of course!
I drove because I had a splashy new car. A perfectly turquoise (my favorite color!) Pontiac Sunfire with all the fixin’s. Pete wasn’t impressed with my amazing driving skills. I chalked it up to him being so damn old.
Our day at Great America was going...
Sooo....yeah....the year REALLY WAS 1998.
I was a recent graduate from high school (thank gawd) and about to embark on my idea of the afterlife. Thus…working. I never was a big fan of school. Unless it was art, or English, or skipping out. What? I made truancy a thing in my school. So much so that they hired a liaison police officer to keep tabs, then started issuing citations for missing class. I know. The horror! What fun is high...
The year was 1998.....
Oh come one. How many cheesey stories start out that way?
Well, let me tell ya, friends. This tale I’m about to tell is…..alright….no…I must be honest here. It’s as cheesy as it comes. In fact…you may want to get some crackers. And a pet mouse to clean up the excess cheese.
This story you’re about to hear is one that you just can’t make...