Working in Sales can be insane and today was no exception. It began with a 2-hour client meeting which, while productive was missing a key decision maker that I really needed there and abruptly ended because the client had to dash to a meeting unexpectedly, leaving me unable to ask such questions such as, "Will you please sign the contract before the Tory Burch fall shoe collection is released?" It is also so incredibly hot in Texas right now that by the end of the day my makeup looked not unlike Heath Ledger's "Joker" character and my hair style is not far off either.
This weekend is Daddy Warbucks' family camping debacle so I made a mad dash to Costco after my meeting. We are in charge of a dinner for 30 - because 30 is easy and cheap to cook for. I was in such a hurry and I had to pee but against my better judgement decided to hold it in. 30 seconds later I literally half peed my JCrew Chinos in the wine section, crossing my legs as tight as possible. I had a little pep talk with myself and made a mad dash (looking like I was running in a sack race) to the Ebola-virus laden Costco bathroom, which was literally on the other side of the 40,000 square foot store. As I shuffled with my va-jay-yay clinched tighter than a bear trap, I almost plowed over a number of sample seekers in my way. I finished my Costo mission with a totally soaked crotch and ass and many curious looks from my fellow Costo cuties.
At least I had a stack of coupons, which I happily handed to the fucktard cashier that took forever to check me out. He took my coupons with a look of disdain and said "These don't start until July 17th!" so I instructed him to "put back the cellulite cream" which he had to retrieve under the 20 lb bag of potatoes on which were haphazardly placed atop of the double loaves of Milton's wheat bread. As I paid my $300 bill, I told him it looked like a serial killer packed my cart, while I'm sure he was thinking, "Whatever you cellulite-cloaked, pants-peeing Princess."