Airports

I am notorious for running late for flights and almost missing my plane.  I've even come up with a system to help avoid the issue:  print my tic at home, no checked bags, don't pack liquids, don't wear a jacket, wear toms

I did all that, waited a solid 30 mins in line, got to the front of the security line and TSA looks at my ticket.  For some effing reason, my name isn't on it.  Obviously they can't check my ID against it and they sent me back to the kiosk to print another ticket.

Take off wouldn't be the same if they didn't have me running through the terminals like a madwoman

Stabbed

I jumped on my counter to grab my travel mug from the top of my cabinet shelf.  I had the cabinet door open, miscalculated my jump, and stabbed myself on my side with the sharp cabinet corner.  I had a big gash and scratch that surprisingly bled out.  I literally curled up in fetal position on my counter screaming in agony like a little baby for a good 10 minutes alone in my apartment.

As I waited for the endorphines to kick in, two thoughts came to mind:
1.  I pray to GOD I never get stabbed by a knife cause that would really hurt
2.  at this moment, I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE GRATEFUL FOR MY LOVE HANDLES AND THE PROTECTIVE LAYER OF FAT THEY GIVE ME.

Baseball game

STRIKE ONE: I went to a baseball game on what felt like the hottest day of the year.

STRIKE TWO: I have no shame in admitting to the public that I am a sweaty girl.  I sweat sweat sweat, and really do hate it but that's how I am.  I usually try to wear a tank top but I wanted to wear my Giant's t-shirt...which good/bad news is black.  Good because it hides my sweat, bad because it soaked in all the sun rays.

STRIKE THREE: The guy I'm with tells me he has to go to the bathroom.  He leaves our seats and I'm curious about what my sweaty pit status is.  I'm lifting my arms to looks, check, and feel my pits to see what damage has been done when I'm interrupted by someone.  I hear "oops, forgot my glasses", and I froze because I knew he caught me.