How badly would it affect my liver if I took the majority of this bottle of Advil?

I may have asked The Aunt that question when I talked to her this afternoon. I knew the answer before I asked, and only took two (or four), so don't go worrying about my liver.

My sanity? Feel free to worry about that.

Now, I must tell you the story of this morning at The Starbucks. If you're my friend in real life, and I saw you at VBS today, you've more than likely heard this story, because it needs some visual aid to best understand what happened. I'm going to take some pictures from my cell phone to attempt in aiding the telling of the story.

When I woke up this morning, I got ready for VBS, and since it was green or yellow day, I wore white pants and my teal tank top. There may or may not have been a white cardigan as well.

(By the way, it is super flattering trying to take pictures of yourself with your phone.)

I know you think you know where this is going. White pants and Starbucks? You spilled? So what. Happens to you all the time, right?

Yeah, well. That's not where this story is going.

Instead of going inside, I've gotten a little bit addicted to the drive-through option of my Starbucks. Typically, when I go in, I know at least one of the baristas there and usually they have my order before I can even say "white chocolate mocha with whipped cream and fairy dust and unicorn tears." They also know that I almost exclusively pay with my debit card and don't need a receipt. Only now, when I go through the drive thru (because it's VBS week and I've been more than once this week), it's a newer girl.

I went through the drive through, and New Girl greeted me. I handed her my card, and the following exchange happened:

New Girl: "That card was declined. Do you have another one you can use?"
Me: "Okay, here." 

Now, I know there is more than five dollars in my bank account, because I haven't paid my rent or my ten percent, so there's a good chunk of change in my name at The Bank. And since this Girl is New, she doesn't know that my card has never once been declined for coffee. But I'm not one of those demanding people, and I'm not going to cause a scene, because even though I was the only person in the line when I pulled up, there were now eleventy-billion cars behind me. So I just went to hand her another card.

And my hand hit her hand, and my card went flying. Right next to my back rear tire. Awesome.

I am also one of those people that parks exactly an arm's length away from the window, because I don't want to have to get out of my car to get cash or give cards.

Something else you should know.

THIS, as it turns out, is bigger than an arm's length.

So you can imagine just.how.fun it was to retrieve my credit card from right in front of my back rear tire.

I had to get out of the car.

I had to shimmy shimmy shimmy my big self out of the small wedge that I had available to get out of the car. All the while, rubbing my white pants all up against my car that hasn't been washed since it last rained.

And then, when I retrieved my card, I had to shimmy shimmy shimmy my big self back through the small wedge that I had created for myself.

It did wonders for my dignity and self-esteem, I tell you. Wonders.