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Saturday, 23 February 2013

Moment of Oops, multiple.

Well, let's see. There was the thing on Tuesday morning where I somehow got liquid hand-soap on my retainer.
Soap may smell great, but the novelty of having tiny bubbles escape your mouth every time you speak or breath wears off pretty fast, not to mention the taste is vile. I got onto the platform with my mouth screwed up so hard I would have scared a cabbage patch doll, and  grabbed a cup of coffee to try and get rid of the taste.
This was a mistake, since I spent the first fifteen minutes of the train commute foaming gently at the mouth while other commuters discreetly moved to a different area of the train car.

I need to remember the Cujo Janet look for next time I have to squeeze onto a packed train. It totally works.

The rest of the week was pretty mild. Then Friday happened.

My kindle died. I am technically in mourning; but at the same time I'm impressed - this little slab of plastic and tech has survived my care since 2010. They don't even make the ones with the little keyboard anymore. It's been getting slower and slower, with frequent hiccups, and at sometime in the early hours of the morning it said Fare-Thee-Well to this world. It's now a piece of plastic & tech with strange lines and marks on the screen, like an abused etch-a-sketch.
(Thankfully, Friday was also payday, so I've ordered another one. The cheap version is £69 pounds, and I'm typing this with one ear open so that I can charge the front door when the delivery guy gets here, because I'm having withdrawal symptoms.)

Then I ended up with Shake 'n Vac in my Uggs. Why? Because I thought I'd lucked out in the cheap store and found a giant bottle of talcum powder. Read. The. Label. Always, always read the label. In my case, this applies to read the label at the shelf, then again on the way to pay for it, because it's not the first time I've bought something that was actually next to the item I've wanted to buy.

So I shook the bottle into each Ugg, realised that a ton of powder had come out, and checked the label. Then I spent 20 minutes with a small puff of white powder dispersing itself upwards each time I took a step, and spent the day smelling faintly of orange blossom. (Side-note - my socks smelt fantastic at the end of the day, so I'm chalking that up in the win column.)

Apart from nearly face-planting into the toilet at work, the rest of the day was remarkably smooth.

Then I went out to dinner with Stacey and her brother, who really, really wanted to know how I fell over a car (so would I, but hey - this is me), and I promptly set fire to the menu. I didn't realise there was a tea-light candle on the table that had been lit, and I managed to rest the menu on top of it. *Sigh*
We got the flames out, and I sat and blushed while my cousins, the wait-staff, and the restaurant owner gazed at me in disbelief.

It was a very small fire, I promise.

The very nice waitress smiled sweetly, moved the candle to the end of the table far, far away from me, and build a little ceramic barricade around it with the salt and pepper pots. Then she thought about it a bit, and put the ceramic table-number holder in front of the pots, and was very... cautious around me for the rest of the evening. Sweet, but careful, the way you treat new dogs and strangers who probably should be on medication.

My cousins took photographic evidence and posted it on face-book, and no, I don't think I'm ever going to live it down.

Mad skills, people. Mad skills.