*** This is a live entry - what I'm about to tell you is happening at this very moment. And lucky you - you have access to this exclusive coverage only at The BUNG Blog! ***
So, I've never been accused of having giant hooters (or really any hooters for that matter). Why this is happening to me now is beyond me, and probably most people who may know me. I'm sitting here at work, just finished having a discussion with my boss about taxes. He walks away headed for his office, and I settle back in to work - I take a swig of tea from my Big Gulp, straighten my stack of folders, and sit back in my chair while making a quick adjustment to my bra.
Oh. Shit. Something's obviously not right. I take a quick peeksie down the front of my shirt. At this moment, my bra is still attached thanks to only a few tiny threads in between the two boobie cups. I'm now sitting so deathly still, typing without moving from the elbow up, breathing as slow and shallow as possible, in a probably futile attempt to finish out the last two hours of my work day (at a FRONT DESK) with a bra. Customers don't appreciate free boobing.
Maybe I'll be able to sneak the stapler into the bathroom and try a quick fix. Son. Of. A. Bitch.
And THIS... is True Life Tuesday.