SARAH IS A BALLER! SHOT CALLER! (Now the title makes sense, eh? Unless you're my mom and dad. It's a rap song, Mom and Dad. Please don't look it up; it'll just make you wish you had beaten me more while you had the chance.*)
What I meant to say was...Sarah got a new job! And it comes with a shiny new pay raise!
That's a picture of success. Or Jersey Shore style dancing.
I'm not surprised she got the job. She's really good at life, and it was only a matter of time before the people who matter started to notice. (In this case, "the people who matter" consisted of one HR lady at the non-profit organization by which I am employed and whose name I've been asked not to mention on this blog, lest I besmirch its good name with my occasionally salty language.)
Sarah actually wasn't even planning to apply for the job until HR called and requested that she submit her resume. Apparently they'd heard about how she had been awesoming it up down in her old department and decided to poach her - much to the dismay of her current supervisor. (Shout out to Tina H. for being a good sport and not murdering Sarah when she told you the news. Your baby will be ten times cuter as a result of your kindness.)
Needless to say, I'm real proud. After all, I did teach her everything she knows about being a hard worker.**
I'll finish out with a personal letter to my sister. I'd appreciate it if everyone who is not my sister would stop reading now.
Sarah,
I hope you don't forget about me when you're one of those super rich ladies who carries a dog in her purse and is really rude to drive-thru employees. I also hope you'll continue to eat dinner at my house even though you'll soon be able to afford caviar and all I can afford to feed you is beans. That's right; beans.
Love,
Emily
P.S. Thanks in advance for all the free stuff you're probably going to buy me.
*My parents never beat me.
**No I didn't.
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