Went out last night, which in and of itself isn’t an unusual occurrence, but as ALWAYS there’s no such thing as the perfect evening.

I looked fine when I left the house — not exotic or anything, but you know. Clean. Slightly fashionable outfit. Makeup. All that happy crap.

And I know I looked in the mirror and must have approved myself before I left, but I had somewhat of a drive to go meet someone. So when I got to my destination, I did the whole freshening-up thing in the ladies’ room just to make sure I was still somewhat cute and fresh and all.

And I noticed that there was a big, oily stain on my green tank top. Bizarre.

Luckily, I had another shirt to pull over it (and I was headed into a movie. *whew*) but it didn’t cover it fully and I admit, I was all “WTF?” over the mystery stain.

I mean, I admit that I miss my mouth most of the time when I’m eating. I’m one of those women who doesn’t eat much on dates — not to be dainty or anything, because you can look at me and know I like food. So, it’s really pointless to pretend to eat like a bird when everybody at the table knows better.

But I end up “getting more on me than in me,” as I am fond of saying. (Ahem.) So, knowing that I tend to spill a lot, I tend not to want to eat at least until the evening is almost over.

Anywhoo, got through the movie. (I rather loved “Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day” although I highly doubt it’ll be nominated for Picture of the Year.) And as a side tangent, I was very depressed for a moment during the show when I realized I no longer put myself in the young heroine’s shoes but, instead, I related more to the dowdy (read, “older”) Miss Pettigrew. When did I stop being the heroine of my OWN fantasies? Lord. < / tangent >

Dinner was at Brio, which was wonderful of course. I’ve been to its counterpart (Bravo) a few times but this was waaayyy better. The Italian Wedding soup tipped me off, as I knew I had tasted that recipe before. I rocked some lobster risotto for dinner, and it almost usurped Carrabba’s as my favorite Italian restaurant.

Anyway, I don’t think anyone noticed the stain — which, when I got home, I found out the one side of my Wonderbra had EXPLODED and the gel is what leaked all over the shirt. (Joy.) Luckily, the theater was dark, the restaurant was dim and I toddled off on my merry way like a good girl so I could be up for church today. 😉

Proof positive once again that you can dress her up but you just can’t take her out!

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