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Frozen Delicacies
I had something brilliant to share. 
I was writing it in my head whilst driving home. 


I ate three popsicles this evening. 
I cut lilac blossoms off the tree and delivered them to boys,
that always makes me giggle.

We bought a truck today. 
It is a 1992 Dodge Dakota 4x4 
It is Red on Red (none of that maroon bullshit)
It has a canopy
And to be quite honest, I'm pretty stoked. 
We've never had a truck before.
It should make some things considerably easier. 
Like hauling dirt, manure, rocks, furniture, the trailer, trash out of the farm--if it ever gets to that, which btw I surely hope so
Oh, and camping. It would be a good one for camping. 

I think I will name it Ruby Tuesday.
I will discuss this with her tomorrow. 

In other news.
I have a big scrape on my back that was not caused by a rug.
The title of that story is called, "Why you let the guys dive under the truck to retrieve the beer pong balls."
It's a goodun, I'm glad I got my tetanus shot a few months back. 
(Ahahahah, I just shared this story with the bro, he said, "that's what you get....k(c)arma")
Will my back ever heal? Or will it always look kinda like a war zone. 
I don't care. I bought a bright yellow bikini for summer. 

I've been practicing comebacks in my head. I've got some good ones stored up. 
I got told I was on fire this evening, I was full of the one-two and then sucker punch, 
No.2 reason why I enjoy hanging out with the guys. 

My favorite went a little something like this:
Eh, I'm not going to actually type it out, 
The punch line is now Mike is paranoid that every time he changes his sheets, Travis comes in a blows a load all over them. 

When I read it like that, it's more vulgar than funny
But I assure you, if you were there, it would have been much more funny than vulgar.
Okay fine. 
I will offer explanation, 
Mike changed the water in his fish tank and then whines about the sea urchin (Gretchen), who seems to spawn/spooge/spew semen all over the clean tank. 
There, that's a much better set up for the clean sheets thought train. 

None of this is as good as what I came up with while driving home. 

I've been really good about holding back on reaching out to dear watson. 
I almost sent him my phone number today. I didn't.
Now I really want to send him an email. I don't think I'm going to do that either. 
Sometimes it's so difficult to figure out how to proceed, start overanalyzing, catch yourself and then be like, 
"Okay, Hazel. Stop. STFU. Breathe." 
Stupid dichotomy. 

Um. Hi 16 year old self. Where did you come from? Isn't it past your bedtime?


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