Mamma's little baby loves clambake, clambake

Oh Dear Elvis... I showed up to work today with my shirt on inside out.

I know I headed off to work this morning wearing one navy blue sock with one black sock and black pants. That was done, however reluctantly, on purpose. I've been delaying the Inevitable Laundry Session that I know will come whether I want it to or not. No matter how much I ignore its existence, the emptiness of my underwear drawer will not magically reverse itself.

But if it could? Awesome squared!

I have enough undies to make it to the weekend, which is when I can do laundry at 7 or 8 in the morning before it gets all butt-ass melty hot outside. Bleagh. But my socks? They fare not so well. I've been down to mismatched socks since Tuesday. And now I'm down to socks that aren't even from the same species of sock-dom. Hello random halloween themed sock!

But the mismatched socks I could deal with. My feet are under a desk for most of the day, and hardly anyone, if any at all, would notice. But my shirt?!

Holy frack nuggets Batman!

Good thing I was bored during my morning meeting, and looking down, and checking out my chest (as a byproduct of being bored, mind you, I don't normally check out my chest. Well, that often anyway...) Anywho! I was wearing a v-neck shirt and as I was looking down I noticed the fabric sticking out where the two lines of the V meet.

And I thought to my self, 'well that looks weird... what the... oh. Crap.'

Sigh.

Thankfully nobody noticed. Because I refuse to believe otherwise.

In other news, I received a spammy email the other day that advertised a drug that could make me "wild and woozy." I thought that would be an interesting combination. "Woohoo! Let's go skinny dipping! Right after I sit down though because I'm a bit dizzy!" Sign me up.