Before you read this, please take into consideration what you are about to read. By posting this, I am only contributing to the surplus of useless information that we have on the internet, and reading this post will cost you a few good minutes of your day that you cannot get back. This is so absolutely useless to you that you might want to be sure there is nothing better for you to do in the five minutes it takes to read it. Just know that.
Without further ado...
There's this saying in the world of women that goes along the lines of: You know it's going to be a good day when your underwear matches your bra.
My question is does that still count if you match your underwear to your bra on purpose? Or does it only count if it's accidental? Because I did it on purpose today and it's been a rather humdrum day in the life, if not a little weird towards the end.
Around 12:30, going on my 2nd hour on Facebook, I decided that nothing was going to get done if I was spending my time on the internet sitting in bed. I got up and changed my clothing from a really comfortable top into a black turtleneck, black pants, and heels, thinking because it's overcast out, it shouldn't be hot at all. Wrong. I got about halfway across the parking lot outside my dorm and I was sweltering. Wearing all black with a polyester tank top underneath your shirt is never a good idea. I should have just gone without the tank and played dumb to my shirt being see-through. Or better yet, I could have avoided changing at all. Luckily, the library was cold inside. I spent about four hours studying before I decided to head back.
I stopped in the food court in the Union to get a crepe because someone gave me a coupon for a free one at lunch. I ordered a very delicious looking cheesecake crepe with cheesecake, nutella, strawberries and whipped cream (There's a point to this running commentary of my day, I promise.). It was when I went to sit down to eat it that things got weird. I didn't think I would be able to eat this thing walking back to my room, so I decided to sit in the middle of the courtyard outside on a bench. This crepe was freakin' delicious, folks. For a brief moment, time stood still. And then it started to get messy. Of course, me being me, I wasn't about to take the time to eat this thing with a napkin on hand. I was in a hurry to get home, after all. So I continue to eat it and whipped cream starts running down my hand, and then onto my pants, and I'm trying to clean it up by using the sleeve the crepe was put in to scoop it off my pants. Then a huge blob of nutella-covered strawberry lands on my pants and by then, I've had it. By the time I was taking my last two bites there were about 30 or so people walking around in the courtyard, 5 or 6 of which walked by staring at me. I have chocolate all over my hands and my pants, and I can't even pick my stuff up without getting chocolate all over everything. I have another question. Why is it that awkward situations like this only seem to pop up on me when there's about 8 million people around to stare? I mean, I like an audience as much as the next theater geek, but this is pushing it a bit.
The point of this running commentary is that despite how adorable your choice of lingerie looks under your clothes, it probably isn't going to change the type of day that is in store for you. Besides having a good laugh over spilling crepe all over myself, my day has been pretty boring. But more importantly, I feel way more sorry for you, who has wasted a good five minutes of your day reading this useless crap.