Sounds like you've had a helluva day, stupidity-wise. The almost-panic-attack feeling sucks, though. :( I feel the urge to tell you a funny story to make you feel better, but I don't know if even the Salsa Incident would amuse you enough.
Imagine the yummiest salsa you've ever had. Sweet, spicy, and delicious. You take a bowl of it into the room you and your housemate use for the computer. As usual, it gets seated atop one the floppy drive on your housemate's computer, which is so defunct that it cannot run with the case bits on, since it overheats. You always put things there so both of you can reach it as you roleplay with each other on AIM (yes, smexy roleplay). Then, you reach over to pick up the bowl, but instead of grasping it properly, your fingers slip off one side of the bowl, dumping the contents down into the computer itself. Cue panicked calling of tech-literate friends and apologizing to the housemate, who is just as surprised as you are. Excitement abounds!
(Actually, she ended up not being so mad because her dad decided to fund the building of a very shiny new computer.)
I'm giggling madly because this sounds like me on any given day, just without the amusing comic support of felines. Instead I get the scornful look of a dragon who knows she's queen of the universe and who is appalled by my ineptitude.
If it makes you feel any better, today I wandered around with a bag for 5 minutes trying to work out what bin I should empty its contents into, when it clicked that I needed the bag FOR a bin so emptying it is rather pointless.
My day started going down hill when I came tearing down stairs upon hearing the phone ring [waiting for a call about a job interview] only to find out that of our cats had dihrrea, the hard way.
Suffice it to say skidding across the lino floor on one foot, arms flailing wildly, more less stark-bollack naked, only to find that the curtains were open just as the postwoman was going past the front window, only emphased the horror of the barefooted *squealch-whoosh* moment.
Sad to say, that was only really the start of the suckage as well...
Holy shit. I understand the "only pants that fit" dilemma. Nobody ever believes me, but I really did (for like a year) have only one pair. Also, I don't get panic attacks anymore. But I do still get manic, and my ability to control my impulses and my hand eye coordination are always the early warning signs. Along with feeling slightly insane and irritable. Anyway, I hope things are better soon. If the pants don't come out in the wash, I am actually serious about paying for custom rants. Actually, I'd pay some for custom porn, too, if you're willing to do that on an individual commission basis (although we'd have to talk price).
Thankfully, I just went and checked and the pants, while coming apart at the seams in a couple places, are at least no longer covered with what looks like semen.
Comments 89
Reply
Salsa, hmm? Sounds promising.
Reply
(Actually, she ended up not being so mad because her dad decided to fund the building of a very shiny new computer.)
Reply
That's some hot roleplaying.
Reply
If it makes you feel any better, today I wandered around with a bag for 5 minutes trying to work out what bin I should empty its contents into, when it clicked that I needed the bag FOR a bin so emptying it is rather pointless.
Reply
Reply
What a scary world our brains are, huh? ;p
Reply
Suffice it to say skidding across the lino floor on one foot, arms flailing wildly, more less stark-bollack naked, only to find that the curtains were open just as the postwoman was going past the front window, only emphased the horror of the barefooted *squealch-whoosh* moment.
Sad to say, that was only really the start of the suckage as well...
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
At least THAT part went okay.
Reply
Leave a comment