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Slippery Devils
Jul. 23rd, 2009 10:43 amMy baby carrots are slippery devils. A bowl of them with salsa plus one mis-aimed fork resulted in one carrot escaping, flying up to whap me in the nose and then rolling down the front of my shirt leaving a trail of salsa.
I look like someone hit me with a paint-ball filled with salsa right over my left boob.
Fabulous.
Not only that, I cleaned out all the spare clothes from my office just yesterday, so I've got nothing to change into.
Now the left half of my shirt (over, above, around, under) my boob is wet and, consequently, see-through. Too bad I don't have an interesting bra to make this more humiliating.
Can I go home now? C'mon, didn't we establish I don't add value? This counts as catastrophic failure in my book.
I look like someone hit me with a paint-ball filled with salsa right over my left boob.
Fabulous.
Not only that, I cleaned out all the spare clothes from my office just yesterday, so I've got nothing to change into.
Now the left half of my shirt (over, above, around, under) my boob is wet and, consequently, see-through. Too bad I don't have an interesting bra to make this more humiliating.
Can I go home now? C'mon, didn't we establish I don't add value? This counts as catastrophic failure in my book.
