Bite Me

Twice a year I find myself engaged in one of the most uncomfortable activities known to man or womanhood—getting my teeth cleaned.  Even though my head knows that it is something that has to be done in order to remain healthy, I find myself fighting over the very idea of making that trip to my dentist’s office.  It would seem more normal to say that I don’t want to go because I’m afraid of the drill, or that I’d just rather jam a toothpick in my gums rather than bite on that obnoxious piece of plastic when I’m taking x-rays,…

When Expectations Hit the Fan—A Tale of Two Dressing Rooms

And so It Begins–A Tale of Two Dressing Rooms (Part One) Continued… After spending a few minutes looking for someone that looked like they had keys on them, I (sheepishly) realized that the door to the dressing room was unlocked.  I mentally slapped myself upside the head and continued with the task I had set myself up for—complete thrift store domination.  The signs said five items per room and I said, “Kiss my grits.” I shoved all of my precious items inside of the dressing room, hoarding like I was Gollum.  I have this irrational (or maybe all too real)…