Klutzy Karyn

This post might not make any sense because I might be suffering from some kind of traumatic brain injury.

So I was napping on the sofa this morning (it was hot in my bedroom last night so I moved to the couch early AM) when I awoke to the sounds of Elvis dry-heaving. Not wanting him to vomit on the couch or rug, I swooped him up and jumped off the couch (still half-sleeping, mind you) and then ran full-force into the kitchen. "Full-force" might be an understatement because I ended up crashing into the wall opposite the entrance (head-butted it, in fact), a wall that happens to hold a rack of pots and pans which fell on my head.

So now I'm dizzy and worried that I have a traumatic brain injury—which I mentioned above (See?! I'm F*cked. Up.)—so I came to Starbucks because, if I'm going to pass out or pass away, I think it's best that I do it in a place where someone can call 911 or try to save me because the last time I checked Beverly and Elvis can't use the phone and aren't brain surgeons.

Sh*t that was a long sentence.

Anywho, if the employees of Starbucks only knew how much stock I put into them...

UPDATE: My head feels better but my neck is very sore. (It twisted and cracked when I hit the wall.)