I may be a Mess, but I'm a Brilliant F***ing Mess

The first step is acceptance. Check. I’m there. I’m a freaking mess. Okay, this really isn’t news to me. I may be a mess, but I’m a brilliant one with all the lustrousness and great talent that brilliant messes are. Hear is a little insight into the disorder that is uniquely me.

1. The battery in my fobber to unlock my car has been dead for like a year. I’m too damn lazy to change the thing so I use the key. Nevermind that the stupid alarm goes off every time I get into the car. Last winter when I rushed out to the car after work and was trying to jam the key into the ignition to stop the blasting horn when I slipped on the ice and wound up with my head stuck below steering wheel my feet half under the car and my dress up around my boobs with half the college hockey team that practice across the street watching me.p(Side note: still haven’t changed that battery.)

2. When the MSNBC was broadcasting live from my company’s parking lot during the Democratic National Convention and as one of the company’s PR people I was lucky enough to get to climb up on the double decker stage to check out the setting. Only my illustrious self could somehow manage to step too close to a sharp edge by the stairs, that was attracted to back of my pants and rip the entire ass out of my pants to show all of the VPs, CEO and half of the NBC crew my purple thong. Okay and my ass.

3. That time I woke up on the floor.

And finally… At 10:47 this morning I realized that my damn dress was on backwards when I looked down and could see the tag sticking up between my cleavage. Awesome.

What is your brilliance?