This is why I can't have nice things:
Today I went to a place near my alma mater to get fitted for bras. It was fine and dandy, I learned that I should apparently be wearing bras that expose my massive backfat, I tried on this great corset...and then my boob got caught in it. Ow, my poor nipple. Without my knowledge I bled in a swimsuit top, but I eventually noticed and ended up buying it. I anticipate rocking a band-aid for a few days.
In other news, my temper has been unusually nasty lately. However--how is it that Das Kapital can say things that are kind of mean, and gets away with saying he's "telling it like it is?" Because when I say things that are kind of mean, I am told that I am being a cruel, harsh mega-bitch? Honestly, I can't tell where the line is, but I didn't think walking into my house as it reeked of the body sprays last smelled in sixth grade locker rooms and saying, "Dude, it smells like young whore in here" was that bad. Maybe I really shouldn't be taken out in public. Maybe I shouldn't go on this beach week thing. I'm fucking terrified. I've been really exhausted this week with the stress of apartment-hunting and apparently I can't trust myself to behave.
In other news, my temper has been unusually nasty lately. However--how is it that Das Kapital can say things that are kind of mean, and gets away with saying he's "telling it like it is?" Because when I say things that are kind of mean, I am told that I am being a cruel, harsh mega-bitch? Honestly, I can't tell where the line is, but I didn't think walking into my house as it reeked of the body sprays last smelled in sixth grade locker rooms and saying, "Dude, it smells like young whore in here" was that bad. Maybe I really shouldn't be taken out in public. Maybe I shouldn't go on this beach week thing. I'm fucking terrified. I've been really exhausted this week with the stress of apartment-hunting and apparently I can't trust myself to behave.