I almost got crushed in the revolving doors at work today. Let me preface this by saying that over the past 1.9 years, I have had many near misses, always followed by a panicked-looking-around and a nervous giggle. This time I was really distracted, thinking about eating my halal chicken platter feast-lunch (btw, vote for the boys on the northeast corner of 23rd and bway for at least an honourable mention at the Vendy's) and not remembering what the last meal I actually had was, thinking about other things too, like that C., even with her black feet, really does look better in this shirt, and wondering how I could have left the house with pouftastic hair, oh wait, the pouf cannot be escaped or can it be separated from the poufter, and then I also might have been swinging my bag and smiling, the latter of which often throws off my equilibrium (and gives me a cramp) because it happens so rarely. So the combination of various percentages of all of the above made me think I could fit into a 3-inch revolving-door gap. And it could have worked, if there wasn't a very shocked woman (wtf, mullethead, watch where you're going. She really did have a blonde mullet) already in the door. So I swore (more shocked looks) and escaped some horrible injury by about 0.7 inches.

But then I felt better (sore shoulder, though) because I found this hilarious and affirming thing...

...which made me think of this...(see it live). Totally logical.








(map to conversational tangents: overtired distraction-->near death-->goth wedding blog-->goth wedding dress-->sleep=death-->my sweet sweet bed.