Yesterday at work, I was washing my hands in the potty and noticed something glinting off of my gorgeous hair (seriously, go to Emerald’s blog, there’s pics of ME and my cute new ‘do!). I leaned in, cuz I’m super vain and wanted a closer inspection. I thought it was a very light brown/almost blonde hair. Since I have a strange obsession with pulling out hair that isn’t uniform (too dark, too thin, curly, too thick, blonde), I yanked it.
It. Was. Grey.
I clamped it between my thumb and index finger and promptly marched up to Emerald’s desk and held it in front of her black monitor to confirm what I already knew. It. Was. Grey. A grey hair.
That’s it. It’s over. Emerald had some witty line that I unfortunately can’t remember, but I’m sure she’ll put it in the comments.
I’m 25. I have grey hair. It’s over. I thought I would be like, 40 before that happened.
My second odd story that I thought only happened to older, overweight or possibly pregnant women begins with our extraordinarly transparent attempt to make up to our clients about what had happened at work this work that inconvenienced them all (see previous post). We made a lovely breakfast for everyone.
This included fresh pineapples for our very pretty fruit platter. I cut the pineapple. I’m not sure if you’re all aware, but pineapple is a meat tenderizer. I was covered in it. I washed my hands and went on about my day. My hands started to get a bit itchy throughout the day, but I didn’t pay attention to it.
Last night, while we were out with the dog, my hand started killing me. It was throbbing and SO itchy. As we were walking, it started to swell up like nobody’s business. I guess my hands had been tenderized by the fucking pineapple. Oh, fuck you pineapple and your tropical goodness!!
By the time we got home, it really felt like my skin was going to burst and whatever’s inside my hand was going to explode out like those new Pizza Pop commercials. Unfortunately, my ring was on my finger.
I tried running cold water over my hand. Didn’t work. I tried icing my finger. Didn’t work. I tried water again. Didn’t work. I tried holding my hand above my head for a while. Didn’t work. I tried jumping up and down and flapping my hands uselessly like an overweight pigeon, in hopes that the ring would fly off. Didn’t work. It HURT.
I resorted to spraying my finger down with Pam. Like, cooking spray Pam. The fucking ring was STILL stuck on my finger as my hand continued to swell like a fat kid at a buffet. I doused my finger with Pam, then froze it, then pulled like there was no fucking tomorrow and finally the thing came off! I smelt like butter and couldn’t feel my finger, but it was off and free to expand as it wanted to.
The only time I’ve heard this happening is to people who break out in hives, fatty mcfats who eat too many fries, and pregnant women who are in their third trimester and falling apart anyways. I felt so old.
Next thing you know, I’ll pee a little when I sneeze.