Today was a typical day of randomness. I found myself not really wanting to focus on anything and all the people of the Glass Palace made it ever so easy for me to be distracted. I started my day talking to a friend in crisis. I'm full of advice and, in my new "empowered" state, I am wanting everyone to be empowered. I told my friend it was time to consider what she needed out of life and to think about what she wanted. I was giving her permission to be selfish and put all the drama to the side. I could see in her eyes that she was not quite ready to do this, but that she truly wanted to. I know she will be okay, she's just going through some shit. I mean, shit happens. It gets on your shoe and you can get the chunks off in the grass, but the scent remains until the shoe is truly cleansed. (Damn, that's some good shit right there. I'm going to share that with the Rug Doctor.) Anyway, I listened to my friend and dispensed all of the advice that I am so full of. I think it helped a little. We all just want to be heard. We all just want to feel safe and loved. I even hugged her, no payment required.
The day progressed and I found myself scattered here or there. Smarty Pants came to visit me and check-in. I flipped him some crap because last time I saw him, he was doing the ice bucket challenge in his underwear. Like, briefs. Like, it was a lot of him to see all at once when you consider I only see him at work...fully clothed. He then gave a full dissertation about underwear and the different kinds and how his buddies felt in those kinds. Which brought us to the logical question, "Have you ever worn a thong? How do we feel about that?" Turns out, he has, once, but it was a "gag" thong. The part where his junk hung was apparently a horse head and if you pushed a certain spot, it whinnied. Hey, I don't judge...okay, I do a little. Anyway, then we talked about his wife wearing a thong all the time and being at one with it. He said sometimes she says she has a wedgie. Wait, stop. How in the hell do you know if you have a wedgie if you are wearing a thong? It is a string up your ass. It's always up there. It begs the question, "at what point is it 'wedged'?" Someone will have to explain that to me because I wore a thong one time (trying to be sexy) and within 20 minutes, I was so angry, I had to take it off before someone had to die. If any of you can shed some light on that, please feel free to comment below. I'm actually curious.
Sometime after Smarty Pants left, I started to realize two things. One, the sneezing that had been going on has now turned to a sore throat. This better be allergies, because I will cut a bitch if I get a cold over my three day weekend. Freaking germ incubating Glass Palace! I found some Halls lozenges in my drawer. It says they expired March of 2013. That's not really that long ago, right? They weren't gooey and stuck to the paper, so I went for it. I have not experienced any sort of fallout from these ancient lozenges so I think I'm going to make it....that is, as long as this doesn't turn into Ebola. I mean, I don't know what my co-workers do on the weekends or on vacation. A girl can never be too safe. Anyway, the second thing I noticed is that after 3 days in a row on the elliptical machine at my lunch time, my leg muscles hated my guts. I'm walking around like a 90 yr old man and can barely get out of my chair. This isn't pretty, folks. I did make it to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror and thought, what the hell? This six-week hiatus from the gym really took it's toll, look at my gut sticking out like one of those starving kids on one of those "for just 25 cents a day, you can feed a child..." commercials. It was also at that moment that I felt my bra pinching. Something was wrong. I went into the stall and realized that my FCD (Fat Controlling Device), which should reach my knees, was completely up above my belly shoved up against my bra. How'd that happen? WTF? I broke my effing FCD! They gave up on me. They stopped sucking the fat in and just unleashed it without a care. It's like it finally said, "I've had enough, I can't hold your fat in one more day, one more second, one more anything." I pulled everything back down where it belonged, but by the time I had walked out of the stall and to the door, it was already to my ass heading for higher elevation. I tried to reason what was happening. I mean, I was wearing nylons, which would have created a slippery foundation for my FCD, but I had worn this combination before. There was only one logical conclusion left...I broke it. Like a single fat girl at a bridal shower, it broke down and ate all the cake it could cram in it's face and GAVE UP. Now what? I need this gut harnessed. I can't walk around like this. What's next? My underwear? Is the waistband just going to snap one last time and then slide down around my ankles? Will I have to turn to wearing a thong? I don't think the Glass Palace could handle anymore of my rage. Also, my bra already rides up and shifts to the right all the time. The only thing not letting me down were my nylons. I didn't get a hole in them or snag them all day. But what if they join the wardrobe revolution and start sliding down, too? How am I going to get dressed tomorrow without my favorite FCD? I'm angry, hurt...and frankly, looking a little bit like a muffin in the mid-section.
Feeling defeated, I just left the bathroom and let that mother trucking FCD go wherever it wanted to. Fuck it. I decided to go see Stiletto Barbie and Zumba Barbie. That should make me feel better. I arrived at their desk and found them sitting there with pink streaks in their hair. I don't know what really happens in their cube, but clearly, left unattended, mayhem happens. What I have come to learn over the years is that sometimes the "why" isn't important. Sometimes joining in the crazy is all you need to do. With that said, this happened:
They say it will wash out. I really hope it does. Shark Bait actually seems to like it. He has commented multiple times that he really likes it and it is "fun." My redneck husband thinks pink hair is "fun." I didn't see that coming.
Anyway, I pretty much was mentally done once I became a punk with pink hair. I called it a day and headed home. Traffic was a mess, as usual. And, I don't want to seem like I am judging anyone driving a Kia Soul, but you all drive like asshats. There, I said it. There may be some specific cases of Kia Soul owners not driving like asshats, but I believe those to be rare and undocumented voyages. Oh, and by the way, you don't get a "free left" at a red light, dumbass. I don't know if an actual hamster (you know, like on the commercials?) was driving that thing or what, but last I checked, you don't just pause and go at a red light. The good news is, since I'm all about being positive and empowered (at this moment), I made it home. In once piece.
Tomorrow I am assisting with the baked potato bar fund raiser...can't wait. More people interacting with food. A true recipe for stupidity, bitching and, at some point, me leaning over the table pointing my finger at someone telling them if they don't like it, to go stuff it. <-- See what I did there? baked potato...stuffed...? never mind.
The day progressed and I found myself scattered here or there. Smarty Pants came to visit me and check-in. I flipped him some crap because last time I saw him, he was doing the ice bucket challenge in his underwear. Like, briefs. Like, it was a lot of him to see all at once when you consider I only see him at work...fully clothed. He then gave a full dissertation about underwear and the different kinds and how his buddies felt in those kinds. Which brought us to the logical question, "Have you ever worn a thong? How do we feel about that?" Turns out, he has, once, but it was a "gag" thong. The part where his junk hung was apparently a horse head and if you pushed a certain spot, it whinnied. Hey, I don't judge...okay, I do a little. Anyway, then we talked about his wife wearing a thong all the time and being at one with it. He said sometimes she says she has a wedgie. Wait, stop. How in the hell do you know if you have a wedgie if you are wearing a thong? It is a string up your ass. It's always up there. It begs the question, "at what point is it 'wedged'?" Someone will have to explain that to me because I wore a thong one time (trying to be sexy) and within 20 minutes, I was so angry, I had to take it off before someone had to die. If any of you can shed some light on that, please feel free to comment below. I'm actually curious.
Sometime after Smarty Pants left, I started to realize two things. One, the sneezing that had been going on has now turned to a sore throat. This better be allergies, because I will cut a bitch if I get a cold over my three day weekend. Freaking germ incubating Glass Palace! I found some Halls lozenges in my drawer. It says they expired March of 2013. That's not really that long ago, right? They weren't gooey and stuck to the paper, so I went for it. I have not experienced any sort of fallout from these ancient lozenges so I think I'm going to make it....that is, as long as this doesn't turn into Ebola. I mean, I don't know what my co-workers do on the weekends or on vacation. A girl can never be too safe. Anyway, the second thing I noticed is that after 3 days in a row on the elliptical machine at my lunch time, my leg muscles hated my guts. I'm walking around like a 90 yr old man and can barely get out of my chair. This isn't pretty, folks. I did make it to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror and thought, what the hell? This six-week hiatus from the gym really took it's toll, look at my gut sticking out like one of those starving kids on one of those "for just 25 cents a day, you can feed a child..." commercials. It was also at that moment that I felt my bra pinching. Something was wrong. I went into the stall and realized that my FCD (Fat Controlling Device), which should reach my knees, was completely up above my belly shoved up against my bra. How'd that happen? WTF? I broke my effing FCD! They gave up on me. They stopped sucking the fat in and just unleashed it without a care. It's like it finally said, "I've had enough, I can't hold your fat in one more day, one more second, one more anything." I pulled everything back down where it belonged, but by the time I had walked out of the stall and to the door, it was already to my ass heading for higher elevation. I tried to reason what was happening. I mean, I was wearing nylons, which would have created a slippery foundation for my FCD, but I had worn this combination before. There was only one logical conclusion left...I broke it. Like a single fat girl at a bridal shower, it broke down and ate all the cake it could cram in it's face and GAVE UP. Now what? I need this gut harnessed. I can't walk around like this. What's next? My underwear? Is the waistband just going to snap one last time and then slide down around my ankles? Will I have to turn to wearing a thong? I don't think the Glass Palace could handle anymore of my rage. Also, my bra already rides up and shifts to the right all the time. The only thing not letting me down were my nylons. I didn't get a hole in them or snag them all day. But what if they join the wardrobe revolution and start sliding down, too? How am I going to get dressed tomorrow without my favorite FCD? I'm angry, hurt...and frankly, looking a little bit like a muffin in the mid-section.
Feeling defeated, I just left the bathroom and let that mother trucking FCD go wherever it wanted to. Fuck it. I decided to go see Stiletto Barbie and Zumba Barbie. That should make me feel better. I arrived at their desk and found them sitting there with pink streaks in their hair. I don't know what really happens in their cube, but clearly, left unattended, mayhem happens. What I have come to learn over the years is that sometimes the "why" isn't important. Sometimes joining in the crazy is all you need to do. With that said, this happened:
 | |
| Duck face included, free of charge. |
Anyway, I pretty much was mentally done once I became a punk with pink hair. I called it a day and headed home. Traffic was a mess, as usual. And, I don't want to seem like I am judging anyone driving a Kia Soul, but you all drive like asshats. There, I said it. There may be some specific cases of Kia Soul owners not driving like asshats, but I believe those to be rare and undocumented voyages. Oh, and by the way, you don't get a "free left" at a red light, dumbass. I don't know if an actual hamster (you know, like on the commercials?) was driving that thing or what, but last I checked, you don't just pause and go at a red light. The good news is, since I'm all about being positive and empowered (at this moment), I made it home. In once piece.
Tomorrow I am assisting with the baked potato bar fund raiser...can't wait. More people interacting with food. A true recipe for stupidity, bitching and, at some point, me leaning over the table pointing my finger at someone telling them if they don't like it, to go stuff it. <-- See what I did there? baked potato...stuffed...? never mind.
A thong that isn't a g-string and fits correctly should rest just outside the meeting of your cheeks. It will ride up more frequently than, for example, bikini briefs, but when it's not riding up you shouldn't notice it. If you can weather a g-string for more than an hour, you might stop noticing it's there.
ReplyDeleteWell, I guess if I was a thong wearer, I would look forward to all the times it wasn't riding up. LOL! Thanks for the insight.
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