DON'T YOU HAVE SOME PLACE TO BE?

I grabbed an old pair of jeans and slipped one leg in as though nothing had changed.
My ever so reasonable subconscious self gave a raised eyebrow and a judging pout, stared straight at these plump thighs and then spoke in Maya Angelou's voice (bless her soul): "You know good and well... *pout pout pout*".

But I'm not the typa sistah to a'mitt duhfeat though.

I slipped leg two in and braced myself. Look I knew what time it was the minute I pulled those jeans out the closet. We're up to about below my butt, and then the ninja-yoga-jujitsu type moves begin. After a hop, a skip, a mild squat, some lunging, the hokey pokey and half a twerk... I arrived at the final strategy: If I pull these jeans up while simultaneously moon walking, I really could win this thing.

And win it I did.

Aah Crap! *a heavy whoosaah complete with "end scene" fingers*
I need to pee.

After this I shall opt instead for the black skirt. I cannot for the life of me go through this again. I don't have time. We thank you oh great underwear gods for these firm and lift under dress and panty things.

*rolls eyes* I'm so upset with my sweet tooth right now.

I finally get to work and...

You know that feeling, when you're driving and moving as swift as what the speed limit will allow and at the upcoming T-junction, some morphodite (yes) decides he did not come here for the stop sign, so he and his beat up car turn right into the road... the road you're moving as swiftly as what the speed limit will allow on... and although he can turn in before you get to him, there is absolutely no way his car (which goes from 0 to 60 in 7.5 MILLION seconds) can build up enough speed to avoid you crashing into him. Therefore it is now your duty and responsibility to value both yours and idiots lives, and either slam your breaks dead or, if there is no oncoming traffic, swerve past him, giving a deadly and cold stare hoping he can read (through your smash and grab windows, mind you) that that move was not only stupid and reckless, but also lacked all focus!!! *cringe*

That's the feeling I got in the parking lot when I saw Mr Fantastic (who has a "long term girlfriend" by the way) walk his way to my car.

"Look. At. This. Look at THIS guy. Somebody look at this. This guy thinks he can. He! Thinks! He Can! He can't!!!" (Nota Bene: that "can't" is in actual fact pronounced as caaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnntttt!!!... thank you)

Him: "Hi Theriiii... you know I want your soul!!!"

Jesus please save me. Clearly this man is the devil.

Him: "why are you always in a hurry? Every time I see you you're walking fast"

*as my face drops* "it's you. It is because of YOU"... I thought in the privacy of my impatient mind. We don't say such things out loud. Instead we just smile and say "I don't want to be late".

QUESTIONS FROM HELL!!!

See the thing is, life experience has taught me (and by life experience I mean the existence of captain awesome here) that the minute I get out of my car I need to be a real Jack (as in, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick...yes?), I need to be swift. I need to be agile in order to avoid such interactions as this one. I just need to get from car to office in as short amount of time as possible. So I normally brisk walk. However, today is different. Today is different because my new firm and lift under dress hasn't yet taken shape, and though it is doing a splendid job at lifting my booty, firming my thighs, tucking in my tummy, synching in my waist and lifting my boobies... it also doesn't allow for haste. I cannot brisk walk. Today I have to move with grace and poise. And Grace and poise apparently has to deal with persistent characters.

While he insisted on walking me to my office block all I'm thinking is... if there was ever a time for a meteor to hit this planet... perhaps, just perhaps, it could be now. Now while the guy who has asked me the SAME question at least twice a week, every week, every month for some months now... and I have given the SAME answer every time... is insisting on asking again today. At ten past seven in the morning before I have even had a chance to get a feel of this day. *cringe* what a guy hey.

Thankfully I'd only have to deal with his presence on this earth for only 3 minutes. Or would I...

Now, science has it that heat makes things expand (or at least I think that's how it goes). My body is a thing. And it is hot. Science is saying "relax and expand"... reconstructive undergarment and bra are like "guuuurrrrrllll... you better compress and stay intact". It is an entire war going on underneath this skirt and top and all I have been thinking since midday is "if I can just get home and take these things off and hang around in an oversized t-shirt and just breathe... life will be fine".

But alas, such luxuries are not always possible.

Guess who was loitering around the parking lot come four o'clock in the afternoon...

WHERE IS THE ESCAPE KEY ON THE KEYBOARD THAT IS THIS DAY!!!!

Like can this guy's family members please come and claim him.

*a very heavy sigh of defeat*

Oh well.