(no subject)

[wickedflea]

Good fucking lord. I wore a brand-new nice shirt to work today. The designer whom the department took out to lunch yesterday brought around wrapped fancy chocolates for each of us. I put mine in my shirt pocket. I was writing something at my desk, and evidently I was pressing up against the edge of the desk with my mid-chest area. I guess the fucker exploded, for now I have a pocketful of chocolate and gooey filling, and I have to sit here with my arm across my left manbreast for the next hour so nobody will see what a spaz I am. I was very careful not to get mustard on my shirt at lunch today, and now I'm sitting here smelling like the Godiva chocolate factory. I haven't had a food-related disaster this bad since the salsa nightmare.