Bark Lips
I know I pick my lips like other people chew their nails or jingle their change. I’m not sure when it went from being a strange diversion to being a FULL TIME JOB, but there it is. It drives my coworkers crazy because I tend to do it more when I am stressed, thinking hard about something or irratable (all commonplace at work). What can I say? I’m a peeler. It’s the best thing about sunburn! Or finding a dried schmear of applesauce glued to my arm by a certain baby I know! There is just something so satisfying about peeling a big sheet of something off in one piece. It’s ok to be revolted. I understand. You can dry-heave a little while you read this. I know it’s not for everyone. I’ll try not to judge your eccentricities, either. You people who cut their toenails and put them in a can. You people who put grape jelly on your sausage breakfast sandwhich. Yeah, YOU.
So, I’ve been peeling my lips forever and they’ve become almost super-human in their regenerative powers. Until now.
Something happened to them this weekend. I can only assume that I went all “Archuleta” and went on a slobbering, lip-licking spree of epic proportions, all while in a amnesic fugue-state. Hopefully during said fugue-state I didn’t do anything equally disturbing like apply for credit cards, wash my reds with whites or eat sticks of butter.
They are almost… burnt. They are red and shreddy and bark-like. They are angry, sad lips.
Fortunately for me, I’m not that easily deterred and a pair of tweezers and a 5x magnifying lighted mirror can dramatically reduce scowling, puffy bark lips. I know.. I know… I’m just so sexy.
Hasslenut Latte
So, it’s free “Moose It!” (extra espresso shot) day at Caribou Coffee. A clever marketing campaign aimed at the fact that Daylight Savings sucks ass and wreaks havoc with babies’ schedules. Today, they feel, everyone needs another shot of espresso in their latte. FREE ESPRESSO. I’m there.
I have a Caribou card that I like to keep money on in the event that I am dead broke and still need a $5.00 espresso drink, because a girl’s gotta have priorties. I’ve had issues in the past getting the card reloaded with dough, which I find SO ANNOYING I WANT TO SCREAM through my frothy skim milk. The card is supposed to make my life more convenient and happy and it does, if I don’t have to put more money on it. If I was rich I could just put like a grand on there and have months of carefree lattes. This is exactly why I hate not being rich. It’s just so damned inconvenient.
Me: Hi. I’d like a Northern Lights skim latte with hazelnut, moosed, and only half the syrup. I also want to reload my card.
Coffee Girl: Okaaaay.
Me: I think you have to load the card first and then do the coffee.
Coffee Girl: *frank stare of astonishment and irritation* You want me to do the card BEFORE the coffee?
Me: Well, just the ringing part. I’ve had problems in the past, so I’m just trying to help.
Coffee Girl: So, you want to put money on the card and use that same money to buy your drink TODAY?
(Ok, what is so strange about this? Really. I want to know.)
Me: That’s the plan.
Coffee Girl: But, I already rang in the drink.
Me: Ok, then add on the $20 on my Caribou card.
Coffee Girl: Oh, that has to be done separately.
Me: Ok. Do you see where I was going with the whole, “I think you have to ring it first” thing, before?
Coffee Girl: Ohhhhh. I see. Well, we can do it separately.
Me: You know, I’d rather not run the card again. I’ll just do it another time. What should I say the next time I’m in here to make myself better understood about this card?
Coffee Girl: Just tell them it has to be rung first.
Me: *just stares at the coffee girl* So, tell them what I told you.
Coffee Girl: Sorry. Daylight Savings and all… (as guy making my coffee mouths “Sorry” at me)
Left Boob
The last time I dyed my hair, I got a blob of hair die on my favorite bra. It’s dark brown and about the size of a small plastic penguin. Now that I am here at work, under the fluorescent lights… I realize that both the dark brown blob AND my tattoo are visible through my yellow sweater. Thus, causing everyone to stare at my left boob today.
If only I had Phoebe’s giant corsage to cover it.