I'm Not Supposed To Be Here

Per my usual weekend plans as of late, I had intended to have a pretty quiet one.

On Friday, I accidentally wore jeans that were somewhat moldy, due to having left them sitting in the washing machine for about, oh, 47 hours longer than I should have, before finally drying them. (It was a busy week, cut me a break.)

Even better was how I realized I was wearing moldy jeans when, as I was sitting on the bus to work, I decided something smelled and started looking around for a homeless person before realizing it was me. My day continued to lack dignity, as my boss (20 minutes into a meeting) asked me if I thought her office smelled, and I spent the last 3 hours of my day having my colleagues spray me down with Febreze every hour, on the hour. Fortunately, my evening was spent at crowded bars and restaurants where no one could smell the difference.

On Saturday, having washed my jeans and aiming for a decidedly quiet afternoon, I went over to a friend's place dressed like an idiot thinking my night would end there, and that said outfit would help prevent me from going out.

Cut to 10pm, when I left a bar and headed to a housewarming party I had forgotten I was supposed to be attending. Nothing says class like getting to your friend's place and being high-fived by a bunch of random frat-boy types because you have an image of a sheep on your shirt and a comment that suggests an interest in beastiality.

And so, I'm sure you can all see why I wasn't that disappointed to head to work dressed in "smart casual" attire on Monday morning. Bring on Tuesday.