Top this: I'm sitting with my feet up, eating saffron pistachio ice cream out of the carton (hey, can I help it if we have a good Iranian grocery store?).
The ice cream is too hard, so when I jam my spoon in, chunks fly up in the air. The dog comes and hoovers up all the chunks.
Or so I think.
Because when I put my head down to continue blogging, the chunk that was resting on my head tumbles down the front of my white sweater, except now instead of being hard it is all nice and melty.
I would post photos but I pitched the sweater out already. The saffron stains may have come out, but it already had coffee stains on it from an earlier fiasco.
Top THAT!
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14 comments:
Ahhh the single life..
Any stained sweater automatically becomes a painting sweater...or a "sick" sweater. You know, the kind you wear when you feel crappy and you have a cold and you need something to keep you warm while you huddle under a quilt and watch Turner Classic Movies?
Saffron pistachio? Oh my. That sounds divine. Well-worth ruining a sweater.
That sweater was just getting good. What are you, nuts? Pistachio nuts anyway.
Don't toss the sweater! I don't think I own a single article of clothing that isn't stained. When I do tv, I have to show my unstained side, if there is one. Otherwise, it's the less stained side.
Count Mockula has you beat. I mentioned my story there. It was a bad day for shirts.
Gandhi - and loving it.
Wordgirl- I have enough awful clothes that I don't need to preserve any more for any reason.
MgM - you betcha. The rosewater saffron is even better.
Wendy - why, yes, I am! How did you guess?
Holly - stained clothing makes me depressed. I dress bad enough without looking dirty AND sloppy.
SuperDes - thanks for the hint.
Once in college I got up the nerve to sit next to this dreamy boy in one of my morning classes. I cracked my frosty breakfast soda and took a sip, then placing it on the top of my little liftable quarter-desk things they have in those big auditorium classrooms.
I crossed my legs at the knee, accidentally tilting the top of my desk a little, knocking my soda over into Dreamy's crotch, forcing him to jump up, which comically knocked his tabletop stuff into the lap of the guy next to him.
I got the nickname "Spaz" after that, and never got to make out with Dreamboat.
I cannot. Unless laughing so hard I banged my knee on my desk counts.
Why are you not in my Bloglines? Adding. You. NOW.
saffron pistachio? yum. forget the sweater..
Moneyaker - I think you win.
Lena - I'm blushing. Thanks for adding me.
Jen - yes, yes. Iranians may have a nutball for president, but they make some dang fine food, including ice cream.
Husband was once eating a chocolate Italian ice (or water ice or whatever your regional dialect for this product is). A large chunk fell on his white t-shirt. He pondered the best way to get if off without spreading the mess, and decided he should lick it off and that way he would not waste it, either.
This is a very good strategy, other than the fact that his chocolate covered tongue left a ginormous stain over the tiny one caused by the spill...
I won't buy white clothing, no matter how cute, because I spill. I spill like a toddler with the jitters.
I was wearing a white polo shirt once. I also had a glass of red wine (can you see where this is going?) I was at my dad's new house and went upstairs to check out the loft/office. I slipped (because I was in my stocking feet because he lives in a friggin' museum) as I headed back down the hardwood stairs. I grabbed the railing with one hand, jamming my finger and breaking off three nails in the nail bed. The wine went up and came back down all over my hair and shirt and the floor. And my socks.
So, yeah. I know from clumsy. *sigh*
People own clothes that aren't stained? Everything I own has a stain of one kind or another, mostly coffee, because I insulted the travel mug gods somehow. I consider white shirts disposable, and buy several each year. I like to put a clever brooch over my stains...
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