Ouch.

Yesterday was so laughably terrible that I had no other choice than to, well, laugh at it all. I spent the first part of my day drenched in the stench of mediocrity and dirty feet at the DMV, followed by numerous phone calls to unexpectedly helpful banks. Thanks for not screwing me on this one, Wells Fargo.

After spending the day running errands, I made some soup and called it a day. Poppa J came over and we rented some movies. I was enjoying just hanging out with Poppa J and Red, but I couldn't shake the headache I had. I started rubbing my temples, but that just made it hurt even more.

Oh well, I thought. It's probably because I'm wearing a hat and I've had a stressful day. I'll just sleep it off.

This morning I woke up like most other mornings: groggy and craving a muffin. I got into the shower and praised Jesus for warm water. After steaming up the bathroom, I wiped the mirror clean and saw this:


Not pictured: Ike Turner.

What the holy hell?! Where did that come from? I searched my noggin and suddenly remembered what happened. There is a shelf above my bed where sometimes things are put. Heavy things. And sometimes said things fall DIRECTLY ONTO MY HEAD.

Hello, Klutziness? It's your old friend, KV. Glad you could drop by.

I tried to cover it up lest my co-workers think I'm cooler than I am by sporting a black eye on a Wednesday.


Also not pictured: emo tears.

Sorry guys, no bar fights over here to speak of. Just a laughably terrible Tuesday.