Jesus - what a morning.

I'm surprised I made it in to work alive.

First - I'm all dressed up, I'm actually wearing a skirt. This vintage skirt by comrags, really beautiful, and to complete the visual a fitted black sweater with 3/4 length sleeves, my disco ball necklace, diamond earrings, black cardigan with big black buttons and 3/4 length sleeves with my gigantic black flower brooch attached, and my new Cole Haan black big square toed pumps with white stitching and silver buckle. I look insanely cute - kind of like a 1950s secretary in a Hitchcock film heading out to a funeral...about to be attacked by birds.

As I walk to the subway station I hear a clatter and a button pops off my cardigan. I pick it up and continue walking. I decide to get a coffee before heading into the subway station. As I'm pouring a bit of the coffee out so I can add cream, my heavy purse drops off my shoulder and coffee splashes all over me. I wipe myself off. I leave and walk to the subway and take a sip and a good portion more spills down me. I have accidentally put two plastic lids and an incredible amount of coffee pooled between those two lids before soaking my clothes and my shoes.

I get on the subway, big delay and now I'm late for work after having actually left the house early for the first time in really...forever. I'm walking from the subway to the office and my shoe heel gets stuck in the sidewalk and I walk right out of it feeling the sliminess of public sidewalk under my naked foot. My beautiful skirt is a bit too big and keep spinning around me with the zipper scraping into my skin leaving a lovely red ring.

I finally make it to my desk and the person I'm currently having issues with is USING MY PHONE. Looking at all my stuff on my desk. Picking up my ipod penquin speaker.

Then boom, huge stomach cramp and my period starts...EARLY.

This truly has become THE DAY FROM HELL.

I go to sew my big button on and it's chipped, making me nearly irrational.

My TDFH continued after leaving work with missing subways, missing buses and having an insane woman pretend to be my new dental hygienist. We spoke about art and she says she likes two artists only: Robert Bateman and Trisha Romance. That alone proves how whacked she is. And just in case you are not familiar with the work of Trisha Romance, I will include a little sample. Oh and check out her official site, because it's even better listening to the embedded music play while admiring the work.


While beginning the cleaning she starts insulting my teeth. "Your enamel is terrible! And it must be a result of all the acidic fruits, juices, pops, beer, etc. that you (DO NOT) drink. And you are totally ineffective in the way you floss. And what is that bump on your tongue?! I'm going to measure it and record it in your charts. How long have you had it." FOREVER.

So my mouth is a mess. It's amazing I can bite into some horrible acidic piece of fruit - in fact any sort of food really.

Her eyes did glass over a bit when the dentist popped in, checking my teeth and proclaiming them as GREAT AS EVER.

Then she went back to cleaning and complaining. "No more lemon in your water. Look at how jagged the bottoms of your teeth are. Do you use your teeth to break tags of clothes?" Sometimes, you got me there crazy lady!

Once home I promptly poured myself a glass of highly acidic red wine, swished it around my mouth and thought about buying myself a teeth bleaching kit and leaving the tray in all night just so I could call her up tomorrow with all the eroding details.