What a day. What. A. Day.
It started with me looking in the mirror to discover the largest pimple I've had since hitting puberty. It's the size of a small child and smack dab in the middle of my cheek. Pretty.
Within an hour of waking up and covering up my pimple, I cleaned up all three P's: piss, poop, and puke. Lovely.
On my way to Dinosaur Camp, I was informed via text message that my email had been hacked. Perfect.
I had to bring my toddler to a business meeting. Thankfully he brought his laptop. He takes copious notes. Pro-Fesh.
I came out of said meeting to discover parking ticket on my car (second one this week) for "Failure to Display Valid Inspection Certificate." Apparently it was due to be inspected in April. Oops. Win-ning.
Later this afternoon, I had to pay a visit to an ophthalmologist for an injury incurred during a blow out a few weeks ago. Yes, a blow out. (Remember you are talking to a girl who fractured her tail bone during choir practice - not exactly a contact sport...) So yeah: wire-bristled round brush to the eye in one of New York City's top salons. It hurt so bad, I half-expected to see my eyeball still attached to the bristles. Thankfully I am still in possession of both of eyes and hopefully my new antibiotic and steroid drops will do away with any residual inflammation. Crikey.
Tonight, after heating up some lack-luster leftovers for the hubs and kiddos I proceeded to inhale half a bag of Oreos for dinner. Now I feel guilty and fat and am convinced that all that sugar is just going to lead to more mammoth pimples. Just call me pizza face, or fatty, or One-Eyed Willie. Serves me right for making fun of the hubs.
And with that, I'm going to go put some drops in my eye and go to bed. I would cry myself to sleep, but that will just make me have to put the drops in again and in the words of Sweet Brown: "Ain't nobody got time for that."
Peace out kiddos,