My pain has reached all new heights. I thought I was beyond such dreadful indignity. Oh lord. I suppose, it's not every day that you find yourself picking staples out of your ass, friends. But today, for me, today, friends, today is that day.

I decided, when I woke up in a cold sweat from the horribleness of having had slightly too much to drink last night coupled with the oh fuck I just got my period blues, that I would wear my very favorite pair of pants because I also remembered that today is Doris's party which ALSO means I have to stay here, at dreadful work, until 8 pm because I am somehow someway one of the organizers of the dread party. So I pulled out my trusty army pants with the enormous pockets. Never mind that the zipper never stays up! I'll still wear this slightly too short shirt with it because I am miserable and will therefore wear my happy clothes!

Guess what? The zipper will not stay up! I have to walk around all day pulling my zipper up! Plus, the happy clothes are far far too hot today.

So then I had to go the grocery store after spending my morning making the stupid WE'LL MISS YOU DORIS banner. I had to buy something for the party because I forgot (on purpose) to make the salad I'd said I'd bring. When I slid back into the truck after buying cheese and crackers I heard it. That awful awful sound you never want to hear whilst wearing your very favorite pair of happy pants, 31 miles from home, six more hours of work + agonizing work-type socializing in front of you. My pants split. In the back. Where my butt is.

This happened to me once before in middle school and I think I left part of myself on the middle school hallway floor when it happened (no way out! 13 years old! very very dorky!). My soul died a little death that day.

I just sat in the truck for about thirty minutes trying to formulate a plan. Nothing came to me. So I drove back here to work, exited the truck very carefully and walked, again very very carefully, back here. I examined the damage in the bathroom stall. Not too bad, as long as I don't MOVE. EVER. The split is, luckily, along a seam and these pants certainly do not lack for material, whatever their other VERY LARGE shortcomings may be. My brilliant idea? STAPLE THE SEAM BACK TOGETHER!

This did not work. Thus the picking of staples out of my ass.

Sob sob sob. If somebody doesn't see my underwear today (either from the front or the back! Your pick!), it certainly won't be from my lack of trying.

Just, you know, kill me now. Or whatever. I'm already dead. IN MY SOUL.