Don't Be a Birdbrain, Girl....

All right, Miss Bev-who-USED-to-be-a-VERY-GOOD-friend:

First off, I'm jealous. Yes, I am. Of your cuuuutttteeeeee chicken coop and the fact that your husband supports you in your fowl hobby. (har har).

AND the fact that you have now trained your little brood to come running and ask for you to pet them. Chickens wanting to be handled? Go fig.

But, really. Girl. I could probably put my envy of your new chicken-y hobby aside, but if our friendship is to continue on any basis whatsoever, SOMETHING MUST STOP.

You know what I'm talking about. Yes. I'm referring to yesterday's telephone incident.

So it's bad enough that you completely obliterate and smash my pathetic Bejeweled scores on Facebook every single stinkin' week. But the fact that you CALL ME TO GLOAT about it is......just plain ornery, missy.

There I was, minding my own business, driving Goldie down to do volunteer work at church, (Can you see my halo? It's there. I'm sure.) when my cell rings. I pull over and grab the phone from my purse only to hear maniacal laughter on the other end of the line, which of course could only mean one person is calling: Bev.

"Heeeeyyyy!! I don't suppose you noticed WHO IS AT THE TOP of the Bejeweled scoreboard, did you?"

Grrr.....

"Why, it's BEV! Imagine that, girl!" Cackle cackle cackle! ::click::

Hm. She has chickens AND cackles? Coincidence? I think not.

Woman. Watch it. I'm gunning for you. Seriously: BRING. IT. ON. This week's Bejeweled trophy is MINE.