Itchy bitch

I’ve been having one of those decades weeks in which I can work and work and work, but I have a hard time looking back and saying that I accomplished something.

This theme continued today whenI learned I cannot even so much as walk directly to the bathroom that I sit by without being detoured and forgetting my original purpose.

I’d needed to carry some girly supplies with me, and I am not a fan of pockets. So, sometimes ya gotta get creative with where you, uh, store things for future use. Let’s just say that “the girls” were carrying stuff around for me. But alas, after a detour and a brain synapse, I found myself at my desk just scratching the hell out of my skin — I was so itchy and wasn’t sure what was up. Anyway, hours went by until I finally decided I needed to go to the restroom, and as I went to stuff my bra, I realized that there already existed a treasure trove of feminine delights — hence the itching from the paper I’d had stuffed in my bra for a good four hours. Whee.

I just hope no one noticed something pointy protruding out of one side and not the other in the interim!

4 Responses to Itchy bitch

  1. Boutros :

    LMAO. My girls tote my “products” to the ladies room, too. And here I was thinking I was being all unique and clever. Dang.

  2. Sabre :

    Okay, slow on the blog reading. But I just want you to know that I’m sitting over here in my office laughing my ass off. Thanks for that!

  3. Caterwauling :

    […] And yes, something else fell out that I’d forgotten about because I didn’t need it after all. Kill. Me. Now. […]

  4. Caterwauling :

    […] Y’all know I carry my girly products in my bra because I rarely wear pockets. (Blazers are to be left on the back of one’s chair, damn it.) So today I shoved some supplies (I didn’t need them — it was a “just in case” scenario) in the ol’ boulder-holder, per the usual. […]