In honor of the bank teller I just spent 45 minutes trying to understand, I'm going to play a new game and talk only in huge exaggerations.

Starting....now.

A giant 40-foot snake with glowing red eyes and fangs sharper than any blade in the hunting section at Bass Pro just sped out of the woods and tried to eat us all. (Translation: a snake just snapped at my heel as I ran after a Frisbee too close to its nest.)

It was so hot today my eyebrows were completely singed off and any butterfly that unknowingly flew into the beams of death from the sun burst into flames right before my eyes. (Translation: It was beautiful today; I actually took off my jacket. Can't believe it's supposed to flurry on Monday.)

Wednesday is going to *sob* be the BEST day of my entire life. Every day up until now pales in comparison to how great Wednesday is going to be. I'm going to name my first-born daughter--or son--Wednesday in honor of this momentous day. (Translation: Wednesday my friend Sam and I are going to go see Paula Deen (She gets the title of Wonderful Amazing chef. Anyone who uses as much butter as she does in recipes gets the title of Wonderful Amazing, in my book.) We're pretty excited to see her; Sam, so she can get her cookbook and try some new recipes. Me, so Sam can get her cookbook and try some new recipes for me to eat.)

I opened the door of the fridge and was greeted by a smell so tangible it literally smacked me in the face. There, on the shelf between the yogurt and the sour cream, I saw it. Its crusted, misshapen body pulsed sickeningly, growing larger by the second. Before I could run away in fright, its bruised side began oozing a moss-colored pus. In seconds the shelf was covered in the foul, gelatinous substance. The creature splatted onto the floor, and slid toward my legs. It was coming for me. (Translation: My broccoli went bad.)

End game.