No, I don't ride the short bus.

Ever have one of those days where you wake up feeling well rested, you have a good hair day, your clothes fit, you go to work and have a reasonable time of it, the commute doesn't suck totally, and then you get home at the end of the day and you find that in the 10 hours you were out of your house, a new, gigantic white pimple came up and you didn't even feel it? Do you find yourself realizing that was that was the reason that your cow-orker's eyes kept slipping down to your chin while they spoke to you? That the look in their eyes wasn't stress from work, but from wanting to escape the hideousness erupting on your face? That the people who like you did their best not to look at it because they didn't want to embarass you, but the people who don't like you didn't want to give it away and spoil the fun?

Yeah, me too. That was yesterday.

Today, I managed to draw all over my white shirt with a red pen without noticing, and I have a meeting with a vendor this afternoon. I can see it now... "No, ma'am, I'm not retarded, I am just shockingly unaware of what my hands are doing when I'm not looking at them as they hold an uncapped red marker and apparently flail around wildly." It's going to be great. Maybe I should take a Chonga Bagel into the meeting with me so that I can get poppy seeds stuck in my teeth and cream cheese on my lips and under my nails and grease on the table top to complete the first impression.