I normally don't get so personal on here, but, I just had a 7th grade moment.
Co-worker Bonnie (one of the three 20-somethings I work with) informed me I had a spot on my pants. NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is horrible. These moments are meant for middle school not late 30's. I should be past this. I don't even have a jacket to wrap around my waist, plus, even if I did, how obvious would it be, in 90 degree heat, to be wearing a jacket?!?!
And of course, after this discovery was made, I back up against a wall and we girls had one of our girly conversations about female stuff (they like to get me going on birthin' babies, since that is one thing I AM an expert on) and I'm waiting for the proper moment to run back to my office and OF COURSE....every man on the floor walks by. It's like they have a sixth sense about the women on the floor having a personal iss-yoo and they come out in droves.
I was going to walk downstairs to take something to be processed somewhere, but, not now. I know if I do.....I am SURE to run into another Gentleman Formerly Known as My Boss (not the one who comes here regularly) and he notices everything and would surely notice my female iss-yoo and would make a comment about it. I'd run into him and there's about 3 or 4 other guys I know here who would take great delight in my plight and in pointing out to me.
Nah...this job'll have to wait. I want a hysterectomy, NOW!
Take a whiff of Sista Smiff and you'll come back for more, that's fo sho!
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
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7 comments:
i cannot express enough the sorrow i feel for you, my friend
Caintcha just call your mom to bring you a new pair of pants. After all, it is a 7th grade moment and all. LOL!
::: knocks on wood ::: I've never had an "accident" like that. Maybe you should pack an extra pair of pants...in case of accidents (lol).
The last time this happened to me*, I went into my boss's office and said, "I've got to go." and he said "What's wrong, is someone dead?" and I said "I can't talk about it, I've got to go."
When I turned around to leave(in my lime green pants), he said "oh". My e-mail the next day, said that we never had to talk about it again and I can always use the code phrase "I've got to go" with no questions asked.
You do have a "go home and cry" free card for today.
*it's so sad that I can refer to this as the "last time" and not the only time.
There's an even funnier sidenote to this story that I'm too embarrassed to tell. Use your imaginations and tawk amongst yaselves.
I had a much worser experience about 5 years ago. It was horrid.
I can just picktcha CeeeLCeee pluggin his ears going "LA LA LA LA LA" about now.
RUABelle's a first grade teacher who's taught most grades up to sixth. I've heard every story about every body function accidents you can imagine...
But I was still plugging my ears going "la la la la."
Dern you, sista! Where is the camera you've got hidden in my office?!
Sugarpie, I feel your pain. I DO.
That's the primary reason that after 32 years of this ruining-clothes, ruining-office-chairs, having-to-duckwalk-down-the-hall rubbish, we're cleaning house on the 5th. Wahoo! Only drawback is that it ain't laparoscopic, so I'll be field-dressed and stuck around the house for six weeks. But you know, NO MORE TRIPS DOWN THAT DANG AISLE NO MORE. It will be SO worth it.
I think the first thing I'll buy is a pair of winter white wool pants. Boogety boogety. (After I hit the sale racks at Marshall's for a great number of summer pastel bottoms.)
Kisses to you. The chocolate kind. Mwah!
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