Shameful

So I just looked in the mirror. Oh my god.

I woke up, oh, I don't know, some time ago. I groggily got dressed and sat down at my computer, alternating between virtually harassing people and doing a little work-writing, toe-tapping along to the Benji Hughes record I picked up in Austin a couple weeks ago. Eventually, I went into the bathroom, looked into the mirror, and almost died.

I am a sartorial and aesthetic disaster today, folks, and I didn't even know it. I have, of course, bed head, my glasses must've been sat upon for they are quite ridiculously and crookedly bent, my haphazard attempt at trimming my stache late last night while on the phone with my best friend was a total failure, with different lengths an either side and just enough stubble growing in between said stache and the chops to make me look not only like a registered felon from the 70s but a homeless one at that. My wardrobe "decisions" are even worse, with my brown house-shoes covering blue dress socks that are easily a decade old, worn with some generic maroon jogging pants, a coffee-stained t-shirt from a Houston micro-brewery, and an inside-out fleece hoodie I purchased for $9 at the Lakewood K-mart last fall en route to the airport when I realized it was supposed to be in the 40s in Boston and I forgot my coat at home.

It probably gets worse, but these are the things I was able to notice before my cheek-burning reached distraction level and the tears welling up in my eyes ruined (thankfully) my ability to recognize my own visage in the reflection.

I guess I ought to take a shower, take another crack at trimming the stache, bust out a razor for the rest of my face, and give hair combing my best effort. And, of course, figure out something else to wear, something that is at least marginally better than what I have on now.

After all, I have a reasonably important lunch meeting today. Though it is over buffalo wings, so some sloppiness is to be expected, I suppose.

That's right - my job can at times be awesome, when meetings amount to brain-storming over bar food. Days like today make up for a good number of those days when I find myself in my office, staring out the window from my perch on the 17th floor, listening to the wind whistle in since the window can't be fully closed nor can it be completely opened, and wondering which specific bad decision is to blame this time.