yeah, so yesterday I was wearing a pair of khaki pants that have a drawstring tie belty thing. On the ends of the little strings there are knots. Apparently when I tied the belty thing, I got the end-knots twisted into an actual knot that would have made any sailor or boy scout proud.
You know when I discovered this?
After I drank about 50 ounces of Diet Coke.
I am in the stall, frantically working the knot, seriously considering whether I can get to my office, get scissors, cut OFF MY PANTS and make it back to the bathroom before peeing on myself. and um. I have to teach class in 4 minutes, so no way to get home to change out of either pee pee pants, or butchered scissor pants.
BUT, the Baby Jesus had mercy on my soul and I managed to get untied and on the seat in.the.nick.of.time.
Oh, and just as an aside---reading the last three chapters of any Jodi Piccoult book while in the midst of public when your emotions are oozing out of your pores is not the best plan. yeah, I read the end of My Sister's Keeper at lunch yesterday, and had BIG crocodile tears rolling down my face, and I tried to stop for about 10 seconds, but it just felt too good to stop. (oh, hey, if you want the book, I could mail it to you if you want to give me your address and you don't think I would try to stalk you or anything. ETA: CK laid claim to the book!)
And now as I am writing this at work with my door wide open I take a quick second to fuck around with a healing pimple right.between.my.eyes. and I make it bleed. So I am sitting here with a napkin shoved into my eye socket and the new guy pops his head in my door and says, "OH, are you okay?" and I have to say, "Yeah, I just messed with my face and now I am bleeding," to which he replies, "mmm. That is unfortunate."
I am a freaking disaster.