If only I had a digital camera so I could take a picture of my face right now, everyone would agree that what has happened to my mouth over the last 24 hours is one for the record books. And by that, I mean that my lips have morphed completely into a giant cold sore. I know, gross. And there are normally only three reasons I ever get one: (1) making out too much, (2) chapped lips, or (3) stress. Since none of those provide me with any insight into my current dilemma, I guess there is a yet to be determined fourth reason.
Mike asked me tonight if it was because I was making out with someone all night. Yeah, I wish that was it. Then I would at least have a GOOD reason for the misery I am in. I can only imagine what I will look like tomorrow as I can tell they are not done growing.
My lips look like I should get my money back from a collagen injection gone awry. It's not pretty. And one of the reasons I would like to mark this moment in history with a picture is so that I can be grateful 99% of the year when my lips are as they should be!! I guess I will just have to remember it without the actual proof...which I am sure will not be too difficult.
Not a bad night at work though, despite the fact that my lips are something out of a horror movie. Disappointment struck early as I was expecting the workplace to be covered in sand as I walked in (apparently it caused clogged drains last year so they x-ed the idea.) Nevertheless, redemption came as many coworkers, not to mention customers, walked around sans t-shirts. Have I mentioned I have an amazing job. Funny story, finally got the confirmation I was looking for that the bartender whose arms I attempted to lick in a drunken stupor some two and a half years ago, still works with me. I had an inkling it was him but not until I saw his arms and tat today was I 100% positive. I got a great view of Mike's ass all night (seriously, another record breaker: best one I've ever seen!). Got caught in the crossfire of many waterfights. Jeff gave me two water pistols of my own; however, they did not compare to the supersoakers everyone else seemed to be packing so I was in trouble everytime I used mine (which shot only about ten feet in front of me and my enemies were able to target me across the room...or from the rooftop!) When Mike came over towards the end of the night to chat, I'd asked where his gun was...he proceeded to flex and ask if I was talking about those guns. It was hilarious and something right out of a ridiculous movie...but that image, of his perfectly sculpted body, shall put me to bed tonight. Let me take a moment to breathe. Ok...I LOVE MY JOB!! I've never before looked forward to going to work so much.
Now if only my mouth returned back to normal so I no longer feel like Frankenstein!
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