I'm...Too Sexy For My Shirt

So, we baby-sat for Wes on Saturday night while Liz and Cory went to the movies and out to dinner. He had a little runny nose, but was his usual sweet and cheerful self. After they picked him up, I decided to run to Red Robin to get us some dinner.

I looked pretty cute. Seriously. My hair and make-up were fixed since Wes and I had been running around town, I had on some cute peach shorts and a stretchy, long sleeve, black top with the sleeves pushed up to my elbows. I had on big black hoop earrings and some flat black patent slides with gold trim. Bear with me. This is important. I looked pretty DARN cute.

But I didn't think I looked quite cute enough to warrant all the boob shots I was getting from the guy getting my take-out at the bar. You know the boob shot, right? They glance at your boobs, glance up at your face, glance down at your boobs? Well, this is kind of how our conversation went.

(Boob Shot.) Can I help you?
Yes, I'm here to pick up dinner for Mrs. Who.
(Boob Shot.) OK, here it is.
Thanks. (Hand him my debit card.)
(Boob Shot.) Here's your receipt, Ma'am.
Thanks. (Taking my bag.)
(Boob Shot.) Have a good evening.

Well, I thought, as I walked out. I guess I must look really fine. Suuuuuper fine. I had a spring in my step. A saucy little bounce to my hips. I am SO SEXY. I look so fabulous. I just have the most fabulous boobs in the world. And that guy was young too! Man, I am just.so.great. I don't know if I can stand myself, I am so fabulous.

I got in the car and put the package on the other seat and smugly glanced down at my perfect, fabulous boobs.

And saw the big smear of baby snot right in the middle of them.