So onto the real story. The Wednesday after Boyfriend's birthday, I had a job interview that I apparently nailed because they gave me the job the next day. After they made their offer, they called me and asked if I could start on Friday. Since I was very excited for a trip to Walmart that the housemates would be making, I told them I couldn't. They persisted and I agreed to come in for two hours at 9 am but still get paid for the day.
That night was the first Thursday night (Thursdays are big in law school because those lazy future lawyers never have class on Fridays) back for the law school so every was ready to get their drink on. I, too, had to celebrate because of my new job so I joined in the festivities. Things ended up getting pretty wild and the next morning I woke up with Boyfriend in a strange bed. At 9:30 AM. 20 minutes away from home and 30 minutes away from the office.
I got up, screaming, as I am apt to do when I have drunkenly slept through something, and began running around the house looking for mouth wash. The bed ended up being housed in the home of Boyfriend's friends so this isn't as weird as it sounds.
I was unsuccessful in my search and had no time to stop at a store and buy anything so my breath remained foul. Luckily, I had a wrinkled shirt in my purse that I threw on, praying it didn't have any weird surprise stains on it. I hailed a cab and urged him to get me to midtown Manhattan as fast as possible, no matter what route. Then my morning allergies kicked in.
You see, every summer morning I sneeze at least 15-20 times. Not polite, dry sneezes either. Big, loud, sloppy, messy, wet sneezes that get everywhere. It's truly horrifying and repulsive and there's nothing I can do about it (short of taking an allergy medicine EVERY SINGLE DAY, who has that kind of commitment level?!) .
Because of all the excitement that morning, the morning allergies seemed to give me some time to collect myself. While their delayed onset was at first welcomed, it got really awkward really quickly in the cab as I begin to snot all over myself. "Miss! Here you go!" the cabbie said, laughing as he passed me the world's tiniest napkin. "Dank you berry much," I sniffed as I tried to control my avalanche of mucus with the equivalent of two squares of single-ply.
As the napkin became thicker and more saturated, my sneezes continued, each one more wet than the last. Uncomfortably, the cabbie looked back at me and said, "Here, let me give you something more," pulled out a roll of paper towels and handed me two sheets. In no time, these too were balled up into little balls of nose drippings.
Finally, I got to my new job, a full hour late. I had called my contact as soon as I could so he knew I would be late. As I walked up to the building, I noticed that my pants had ripped on the seam in the thigh and there was nothing I could about it now besides attempt to keep my legs closed. I was chewing a piece of pineapple flavored gum that was doing nothing to counter my rancid breath and make up was smudged all over my face.
The next two hours were tedious and tortuous. Every time I spoke to someone I had to complete a mental checklist: Legs closed? Check. Keeping mouth and teeth covered while speaking to anyone I meet? Check. Eyes open as wide as possible to counter any hungover look? Check. It's similar to my seduction check list except obviously then I try to keep my legs open.
I think I succeeded because they didn't fire me on the spot, despite my alcohol-soaked sweat and general foulness. The next Sunday, I made sure not to drink and went to bed early, so I could make sure I was up early, ready to shower. I promised myself that on my first REAL day I would look put together and smell delightful. My teeth would be clean, my shirt would be pressed, my sweat would be fresh and my seams would be sewn.
I woke up Monday morning and achieved all of my aforementioned goals. I walked the seven minute walk to the train, a skip in my step and a smile on my face. Then my morning allergies kicked in and I sneezed one gigantic sneeze and wet my pants. Not a full-on wetting, the kind the makes you go back and change your pants, but just a substantial drizzle. I paused for a moment, looked at my phone clock and decided that the pants would dry in time for work and all would be well. The wetting wasn't so bad.
About one hour into work, it became clear that the wetting WAS so bad. I smelled terribly, like a festival porta-potty that hadn't been changed since Woodstock. Once again, I was relegated to squeezing my legs together as tight as possible, a position that is highly uncomfortable for me. When I stood, I would stand up as slowly as possible, in order to prevent wafting. I would then walk away in a shuffle, trying to make it look as natural as possible. It most likely did not succeed.
Then I took other de-stenching options. First, I went into the ladies room, removed my underwear and threw it away. Still the stench lingered in my pants. Then I took my pants off completely, shoved them in the sink, put some foamy handsoap on them, dampened a paper towel and started scrubbing with all my might. Finally, to both dry the pants off and further encourage sweetness in my slacks, I started waving them wildly around the bathroom.
My efforts worked! For about the next hour. Then I was back in leg squeezing, shuffling and praying mode. Luckily, during my hour lunch break, I had time to run to the nearest Bath and Body works, buy the spray that I thought would best counter the smell of port-o-potty and run back while trying to discreetly spray my crotch. This also worked for about an hour until I started smelling like urine and coconut and lime fused together into one putrid package that I happened to be in.
And that's how I ended up with no friends for my first two days of work.