Identified Flying Objects
Nobody has problems like mine. Let me clarify: I know there are many people who have worse problems; that's not what I mean. Others' problems might be worse, but they're not LIKE mine.
At first I was not going to blog about this, because the beginning has me doing something so impolite and gross that I don't want to admit to doing it, but the resulting funny was, well, so funny that here we are. Let me preface this by saying that I would never, never in a million years have done any of the following if I wasn’t the only person in my office. I don't mean that I have a private office with walls and a door (which I did in our previous location), I mean, there is only ME in my office. I don't have cow-irkers just outside my door, sharing hallways and common spaces and occupying adjacent offices/cubicles. While I do have cow-irkers, they are all at different sites. Since it is only me in my actual office location, day-to-day, that is why I engaged in behavior that is...well, certainly not something to which I'd stoop if I shared an office with others, nothing to which I'd subject other people.
I’m typing away, hard at work on a spreadsheet and I kicked off my ballet flats. (First offense, barefoot and unprofessional.) I was kinda scrunching my feet around as I worked and one of my toenails snagged in the carpet. I took a closer look and the nail had a little break on one side, near the top and the hangnail had caught in the carpet threads. So I got out my nail clippers to remedy the situation. (Second offense: clipping the nails of any of my four appendages in the office. Horrible. I’m aware of this and I totally assure you that I DO have manners and that if anyone else was in my office, even momentarily, I'd NEVER have done this.)
So I lean over in my chair and wield my tiny implement of destruction. Y'all…when I clipped that toenail, the fragment FLEW OFF, up in the air and landed IN MY HAIR. In the back of my hair.
So today I found myself in the unenviable position of having to comb my fingers through my hair in search of my own toenail.
No matter what your day was like: bad, good or mediocre, I bet you didn't have to fine-comb your hair to RETRIEVE A TOENAIL - yours or anyone else's.
Nobody has problems like mine. Let me clarify: I know there are many people who have worse problems; that's not what I mean. Others' problems might be worse, but they're not LIKE mine.
At first I was not going to blog about this, because the beginning has me doing something so impolite and gross that I don't want to admit to doing it, but the resulting funny was, well, so funny that here we are. Let me preface this by saying that I would never, never in a million years have done any of the following if I wasn’t the only person in my office. I don't mean that I have a private office with walls and a door (which I did in our previous location), I mean, there is only ME in my office. I don't have cow-irkers just outside my door, sharing hallways and common spaces and occupying adjacent offices/cubicles. While I do have cow-irkers, they are all at different sites. Since it is only me in my actual office location, day-to-day, that is why I engaged in behavior that is...well, certainly not something to which I'd stoop if I shared an office with others, nothing to which I'd subject other people.
I’m typing away, hard at work on a spreadsheet and I kicked off my ballet flats. (First offense, barefoot and unprofessional.) I was kinda scrunching my feet around as I worked and one of my toenails snagged in the carpet. I took a closer look and the nail had a little break on one side, near the top and the hangnail had caught in the carpet threads. So I got out my nail clippers to remedy the situation. (Second offense: clipping the nails of any of my four appendages in the office. Horrible. I’m aware of this and I totally assure you that I DO have manners and that if anyone else was in my office, even momentarily, I'd NEVER have done this.)
So I lean over in my chair and wield my tiny implement of destruction. Y'all…when I clipped that toenail, the fragment FLEW OFF, up in the air and landed IN MY HAIR. In the back of my hair.
So today I found myself in the unenviable position of having to comb my fingers through my hair in search of my own toenail.
No matter what your day was like: bad, good or mediocre, I bet you didn't have to fine-comb your hair to RETRIEVE A TOENAIL - yours or anyone else's.
6 Comments:
I've had some strange problems but never that one. Thanks for sharing!
By
basil, at 6:35 AM
This was an amazing story! Personally, I would have left it there... no one would ever have found it, and it would eventually appear once you washed your hair... just sayin... :)
By
Inna, at 2:39 PM
Funny!! I hate to think of the condition to which I would degenerate if I worked alone, unseen by others.
By
Anonymous Me, at 7:51 AM
Helly, seriously - there are sitcoms in desperate need of talented comedy writers in case you ever want to start another career. I rofled then I lolled.
By
Topcat, at 9:00 AM
Guess it's a good thing you don't have office mates! I love your term "cow-irkers." I may steal that.
By
Anonymous, at 11:37 AM
Thanks, all, for your comments!
Inna, see, I couldn't leave it and hope it came out in the wash - this is ME. I'd either be walking around all day with that crescent of toenail on top of my head, sticking up, or it would fall out at the worst possible imaginable time. Like on the elevator with the Queen, Perez Hilton AND Ryan Giggs.
Sandy, if you can tell me where are these sitcoms, I am in desperate need of another career. 15% agent's fee!
dkzody, alas, I did not coin cow-irkers, but in any case feel free to klep it.
I didn't coin "klep it" either, my friend Anne did. Means steal, from 'kleptomania', but I expect you linguistic brainoids knew that. (Er, which was a compliment.)
By
Helly, at 8:40 PM
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