not your average ginger.

last night I had a dream that i worked for you. we got off at 5, hit happy hour, freed Britney together and you force fed me grape flavored candy (gross). i woke up and cried, but not because of the artificial grape flavoring, but because i in fact do not work for you yet. then, i remembered we are tiny pieces of meat on a rock floating through space and it ain’t that deep. but seriously, call me.