Embrace the Rage

I have a mother-fucking eye twitch and I’m trapped in one of the world’s most annoying damn classe and it may be time to RANT.
Let’s say you are taking a class about how to drink water.  It happens to be something you do everyday, but because it is required you go to the class with the expectation of learning something useful.  The first day of class you learn where water can usually be found,  maybe spend some time talking about juice (?!) and then they hint that eventually you might see someone drinking water. Disappointing, but you go home with hope for tomorrow.
The next day you get to spend some time watching your instructor lay on the floor while another instructor pours the water into her mouth, spilling over 80%….da fuck? I could explain how to drink water more efficiently than that!  Then we get a couple guest speakers who explain that at their companies everyone drinks water everyday successfully….. That’s great,  but I want to learn HOW to drink the water!
The third day,  we end up talking about juice again,  but this time we have to write down how we would make wine out of juice….and suddenly I can’t stop my fucking eye from twitching. 
This is insane. 

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boobular alignment

For every horrifying tragedy in this world there are approximately fitty-bajillion (my estimate; and quite obviously not in any way scientific) minor annoyances which are just, well, annoying. Those annoyances are not worthy of great thought or even rectification; so please enjoy my whine about a completely trivial matter:

This may be something only I deal with–but I doubt it. I wear a lot of sports bras, not because I enjoy the uni-boob appearance but because they are inexpensive, easily washed and dried, and for the most part tend to hold my rascally boobs in one location. In the morning after I grouchily drag myself out of bed I will put on whatever clothing I managed to cobble together out of the drier, off the floor, and on a few memorable occasions–off of the lawn (damn dogs!). After throwing on these ensembles of perfection I often fail to look in the mirror before I go. Today was one of those days. While in the bathroom at work I looked at myself for the first time today and thought, “hey there, hotstuff–not too sha…..DAMN.”  My nipples were misaligned. I am not talking about a standard nipple alignment failure such as:

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when the above happens I laugh and picture a muppet character before shaking the girls into a better look. 

No, today’s horror in a shirt looked more like a stoned chameleon or a mutated walleye. Or, ya know, more like this:

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Yikes! It was rather horrifying, even to me.

How did I not notice my boobs were trapped in a disturbing position? No clue.

Just glad I was able to wrangle those wiley suckers back into alignment before too many people saw me.

Happy to report we are looking something like this for the rest of the day:

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although, you know….not all two dimensional and awkwardly drawn in Paint on my computer n stuff. 

Have a wonderful (mostly aligned) day!

-H.