I admit I like to blog about non-writing subjects just to mix it up. There is only so much the unpublished writer can blog about, and I do not think you want to hear how that Service Level Agreement I wrote today at work sparkled with dry wit.
Since I have not been to the neighborhood coffee shop in several days, I cannot blog about the baristas.
I can, however, relate just how much of a dork I can really be.
Monday was a real long day at work and it is boy’s night out (steak and games). I am on my way to my friend David’s house, in which we will consume said steaks and commence with a thoroughly nerdy session of Dungeons and Dragons.
On the way, I stop and get an espresso at the Starbucks (no, this is not the infamous coffee shop referenced above). I set my espresso down to get some cream, and notice I have placed my hand on someone’s dirty napkin that they neglected to throw away.
First, I detest poor manners in public. Second, I am sure at this point I have the Ebola virus. I curse myself for not spotting the offending germ spreader.
Off to the 4×4 I go, where I keep a Costco sized hand sanitizer container. I sit down, pop the top and squirt a generous glob on my hand.
Except, my hand isn’t getting any gel.
I have missed. Did I mention it was dark already? So I turn on the inside lights.
I look down. There is this gynormous pile of gel on my pants. Well crap, that was stupid. I scrape it up and clean my hands. Thankfully it is mostly alcohol and I am sure it will not stain my slacks.
No sooner did I think this then the alcohol that already seeped through my pants starts to burn. Not only has it gone through my slacks, it has gone through my underwear. And now—
OH MY GOD MY CROTCH IS ON FIRE! I HAVE NAPALM BURNING ME!
OMG OMG OMG OUCH OUCH OUCH OUCH OMG OMG OMG!
So I turn on the air conditioner and point the vent at my now BURNING crotch. I crank the fan on full, but it is not enough to sooth the sensation that I am on FIRE. So I thrust the offending area of my body completely off the seat as close to the vent as I can get.
OUCH OUCH OUCH Oooooohhhh Ahhhhhhhhhh. Much better! The cool air feels so good, contrasted with the prior BURNING, that I let out a big sigh.
Then I notice that there two women looking at me in the parking lot, with eyes as huge as saucers.
I put the 4×4 in drive and leave in a hurry.
Okay, more than quickly.
Did I mention I am a walking disaster?
Anyone want to go to lunch?