I just got a voice mail from a woman named Courtney. No joke: She called to inform me that my halo is in and ready to be picked up.
No, I did not order a halo.
But I've been EARNING one, am I right??
For example, earlier today after burning my palm, pouring soda all over the kitchen, dropping knives at my feet, and nearly slicing off my finger, I went to get coffee. They were all out of regular. Fine. I used to like Hazelnut. I decided I could handle Hazelnut today. When my mug was a quarter full, the Hazelnut ran out. The only kind left was a blend that tastes like caramel. Rather than complain, I just MIXED them. And yes, it was gross but I was super nice about it. So, I mean, I'm just glad I'm finally getting recognized by upper management for all my good works down here.
To be honest, I really don't know what this is about—probably a costume or something—but I just love it and I almost don't want to call back to tell them they have the wrong number.
I prefer to picture Courtney as the administrative assistant at the Pearly Gates, making calls to earth on a phone that looks like this: