There is a mysterious lump on the back of my thigh...

...from the underwear I wore yesterday...that were still in the pants I wore yesterday...when I put them back on for work this morning. Oh, don't worry. It's not a medical condition, just one of those pesky sock/panty 'tumors' that one gets when they are too dang lazy or exhausted to open the closet door/drawer/dig through random piles of wrinkled-beyond-recognition laundry to find something clean to wear at 5 in the morning.

In my experience, as I get these often, it's usually a sock lump, and it's a good thing it wasn't a sock today, because I usually don't find those until hours later, as they are small enough to go unnoticed until someone points and says...'Hey...ummm...what is that?" and you realize in horror that you have either a new appendage growing from some part of your body, a small animal has decided to hitch a ride or, worse...nest in your trousers, or you have simply managed to carry your dirty unmentionables around with you all day without noticing. At least this time they weren't pointing to the part hanging out of your pants leg... you know... the one that matches the big glowing "L" hovering in front of your forehead? That's the deadliest of all...the clinging-skivvy ankle-tumor. It brings a quick and painful death by humiliation.

I am at the point of such extreme exhaustion lately, that I actually contemplate just how long I can go without a shower before I start to smell. So far I have made it just past 48 hours and that is my limit. At that point I feel too grungy to exist and have to give in. I manage to go without for more than a day if I can either find the energy to stick my head under the shower head to wash my hair, or find a hat to cram all of my hair under for the day. I cannot stand to feel like my hair needs washing. So...today i did the shove my head under the shower thing.

And so desperate for sleep have I been recently, that I've begun to consider sleeping in my clothes, so that I don't have to get up so early. I am so incredibly serious. I almost did that last week...and if my favorite super-soft jammies hadn't been sitting right next to the bed (upon the huge wrinkled pile of clean laundry) I really believe I would've done it.

There are days when my socks don't match (color, the style has to match or the feeling will drive me insane) and certainly days when my clothing really doesn't go together... Do I really care? No, because I'm sick, or tired, or too frazzled to even think about it. I guess I figure all my real friends would understand. And some of them probably look the same...so who cares what the rest of the world thinks.

And on the bright side...at least it wasn't the lumpy-sock-boob this time...

Whatever happened to phone etiquette?

Dan's phone rings just after midnight on Thursday night/ Friday morning...and he doesn't recognize the number, but he answers it thinking maybe it's one of his relative's numbers, which he might not recognize (his Great Grandmother died last weekend) The caller hung up after he said Hello.

The next day at lunchtime, just to be sure everything is ok and it's not someone he knows, he calls the number back. An older woman answers and he's pretty sure she's AA so he figures it's not a relative, and because he's feeling so bad...he hung up. Normally he would say "Sorry, wrong number...blahblahblah..." but he felt like crap.

So anyway, 30 seconds later his phone rings again...same number. He doesn't answer. Right after that, his voicemail notification chimes. He plays the message and I swear, this is verbatim what the lady said...and for any Southpark fans, if you remember Chef's Mom's voice...she sounded exactly like her.

Angry woman "Don't you call my g*dd*mn phone in the middle uh the motherf**king mornin' and hang up in my motherf**king ear, g*dd*mmit!"

I swear I thought I was going to pee all over myself laughing.