#1: I woke up.
Clearly, this was a mistake. I should have stayed in bed, put the covers over my head, and maybe taken a couple of my leftover Percocet from the laparoscopic surgery I had in October. Because the Percocet high? Would've easily been the highlight of my day.
#2: I popped a zit.
Because really, who doesn't love to pop a zit? It's satisfying – admit it.
I've had a gremlin growing under my skin all week – it was an invisible bump, it was itchy, it hurt like a bitch. It did not, however, have a big white head until today. Apparently. I am not sure. Because today was when Mark said, "Oh, you got a popper there." So who knows? Maybe it had a big head yesterday and neither of us noticed, because I've been quite the adolescent boy in the face department lately.
After I finished feeling incredibly vixenish and supremely sexy, I went to pop it.
MISTAKE! SHOULD HAVE STAYED IN BED AND NOT POPPED ZIT!
Now have giant red mark and scab! Am disgusting and look diseased!
#3: Went to Panera. At Noon. On a Sunday.
Any normal person knows better. But I was wild and crazy last night, and stayed up until 11:30 (the time of night when only hookers and thieves are awake). And then I slept in until 8:30. Which was stupid, because I have finals on Monday and Tuesday and have managed yet again to put off studying until the day before, and needed to be at Panera at 7 when they opened. Instead, I got there at noon, after I dicked around on the Internet for a few hours.
The problem with getting anywhere at noon on Sunday is the church crowd. Church people always go to lunch afterward, and apparently Panera is THE SPOT for post-church lunch. I would not know, because I don't go to church. Which is why we don't have kids – god hates us.
I had the pleasure of sitting beside three church people. An older couple, who I assume were a pastor (or whatever term you like) and his wife, and a younger guy who was interviewing for a position at their church. While I was trying my best to learn about auditing, all I could hear was this interview, and it was DRIVING ME CRAZY. The entire interview reminded me of what I imagine could be an interview for a marketing position: how will you lure people to follow the word? What music will you choose to keep people coming to service? How do you feel about discussing issues like * gasp * divorce and premarital sex, and pornography? How will you effectively manipulate the feeble minds of the masses?
And then they were making fun of the way people dressed. Because apparently, is bad to worship the lord in flip flops. Just stay home, for Christ's sake, if you are going to wear flip flops to worship.
#4: Was not specific enough about the quantity of beverage I need.
OR: Panera – it's no Saks.
After being there for about two hours, I was hungry and thirsty, so I decided to transition from loiterer to bona-fide customer and purchase a cup of broccoli cheddar soup and a beverage.
The typical, annoyed high school girl waited on me, and was sufficiently annoyed with my very existence and my sheer will to ruin her life by ordering food. At the restaurant where she comes to get paid to hang out. She gave me my total, and I didn't really pay attention to what she said and just handed over the debit card. But then, I looked up at the register screen and noticed my total: $23.98.
$23.98…for a cup of soup and a pop.
So I say, "Why is my total so much."
And she shoves my receipt in my face and says, "check your receipt." Translation: shut up and pay, you cheap asshole.
Now, I'm no accountant or anything. I don't work for NASA. And I'm no economist. I'm not a doctor. I don't belong to MENSA. So you'll forgive me for being smug when I ask why I am paying $23 for a cup of fucking soup and a drink. I mean, this girl is clearly from the well-to-do town where Panera is located, so she must routinely eat soup made of goddamned gold and unicorn piss, right?
And I have to point out to annoyed teenager that, while I am annoying, SHE CHARGED ME FOR 14 POPS! 14 sodas, if you prefer.
So I say, "Well, you charged me for 14 pops." And I offer the receipt as proof, since I am a lowlife and am probably lying and should just pay $23 and get out of her life forever, right?
Was she sorry, you ask? Did she apologize?
She yanked the receipt out of my hand and walked to the back. A few seconds later, she's saying "She paid for 14 pops but only wanted one, I guess."
Stop the presses. Slow the bus down. Shut the fuck up.
This girl has the balls to act like this is my fault? Like it was perfectly plausible that I, alone in this Panera Bread, would order 14 carbonated beverage cups? All for my little self?
I laughed. Out loud. It wasn't really an I'm-a-jerk-and-am-pissed laugh. It was more of an I'm-nice-it's-no-biggie laugh.
The manager, who must have been a year older than the annoyed teenager and who was not finding my humor in the situation, comes out to the counter and says, "Give me your card." No: sorry, no let me credit you for the 13 extra pops, no: I'm sorry that I'm dissatisfied with my life but I will still be nice to you.
He credited my card and walked away, and annoyed teenager handed me my card and new receipt, saying "Here."
And I said, thank you so much for being so very helpful. Because that's how you talk to assholes, right?
#5: Am not smart enough to use a bathroom stall lock.
After drinking my 14 pops, I had to pee. Natch.
So I go to the restroom and hover, like normal, because do you think that dissatisfied manager makes annoyed teenager clean the bathroom? I don't think so, either, so I don't sit on the seat because hell. I already have infertility, I don't want to catch poor, or ugly, or fat from the toilet seat. I already caught infertility that one time I sat on the toilet at a turnpike McDonalds.
About half way through a perfectly satisfying pee, the stall door flies open! AHHHHHHHH!
And who else is there, but the pastor's wife, who makes fun of people who wear flip flops when praising Jesus. Of course. The look of shock (and maybe terror) on her face was priceless. It almost made me wish that I had my iPhone at the ready while hovering just in case this very situation came up. (Maybe next time)
So I guess I didn't push the latch over all the way, and of course I had to spend the remainder of my studying time sitting by the lady who saw my cooter, because I am a high-hoverer.
It was awesome.