Airing out my dirty laundry

Having survived my exams, I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. Fortunately, for the one time in my life, I have multiple social events to choose from. I was invited to a dinner party, a birthday party and there's a mini-pre-valentine's day celebration going on at the school.

For a girl who's used to spending her Saturday night hugging a tub of haagen-daaz in front of her television, this is like winning the lottery.

"I'm just so happy right now! I want to thank my fans! YOU GUYS RULE! Without you I wouldn't be here. Um, I want to thank my mom and dad for believing in me. And my sister Karen. And Jaws. And I'm forgetting someone but I'm sure they're not important. And the morning crew at Tim Horton's for making those little honey crullers and that regular single-single just right!"

Once I got over the initial shock and daze of having a social life, I decided that getting myself cleaned up and dressed up was a first step. I spent the last hour trying to decide on an outfit which, considering I haven't done laundry in three weeks, was very very difficult.

I had to find a top and bottom that not only matched, but that were clean and respectable to appear out in public. I had a handful of shirts left and narrowed it down to one and then I realised . . . I had no clean pants.

None.

I looked at hte clock. I had half an hour. Not enough time to wash and dry anything, let alone my dark denim jeans which were the only pants that would match any of my clean tops.

I did what I had to do and dug deep into the laundry pile . . .


So now I'm dressed up and ready to go and hoping like hell that no one notices the funky smell from my jeans. They're the same ones I wore to castrate calves and I'm hoping that my coveralls took most of the smell and that my jeans didn't soak up too much of it. It was either those or the pants that have bird poo and feathers all over them.

And this is probably why I don't get out more often. Sigh.

Hey, at least I'll have elbow room on the dance floor. Or maybe people won't notice that I'm the one who smells so "beefy". I put on mascara for once in my life as a compensation. Surely someone who wears mascara can't smell like cow. OH WHO AM I KIDDING?!

Ugh. Too late now though. Here goes nothing.

Wish me luck!