I spill coffee. This is to my great shame, given my fondness for the substance. It seems almost impossible for me to have a dark, luscious cup of joe, with all of its alluring qualities, without clumsily splashing it across my nethers. It distresses me on multiple emotional, and physical levels.
It has come to my attention that if I am in sophisticated, or fancy attire, the likelihood of spillage increases exponentially.
At the McDonald’s before my cousin’s extravagant wedding. BOOM. Pants ruined.
A heated match of Hanafuda KoiKoi with my best friend in the Lantern Coffee Bar and Lounge. Those pants were so fresh!
JUST FREAKING NOW! The spot is still damp, and the burn notable.
It’s probably a form of punishment for failing to tip at Dunkin Donuts. A curse put on me by those expectant donut people, requesting additional compensation for turning around, taking a single step, and placing a donut in a paper bag.
… I’mma go apply to Dunkin.