Last night I joined some local ladies for a night in the hot tub. A sedate affair, and relaxing, but as the youngest woman there I had to rock the cleavage, right?
OK, so today I washed my tankini in the washing machine. And when it came out, the push-up pads had fallen out.
And they look weird.
I wasn't sure how to get them in right, but I gave it a shot. And they didn't look right to me.
"I need a tutorial," I thought. So, I put dinner on the stove and called Customer Service.
Barry just laughed and transferred me to one of his female coworkers. Such disappointment! Isn't that why Barry got a job at the Vic Secret Customer Service hotline? Eh, maybe not.
Boy, that rice smells good. Just about time to put the pork chops on, as soon as I talk to Marissa.
She was no help, either. Apparently all the push-up pads in their suits are the same, they go in the same, there is no instruction or chart or anything, I just have to fiddle with it and play with it and eventually it will smooth out.
Or, you know, not.
Around this time, I noticed the burning smell.
So, now it is nearly 7, I am on a second pot of rice, the pork chops are half cooked, and I have a deconstructed tankini top on my desk. Which I shall play with until it looks right.