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Today I broke my shirt. When I was putting it on, I heard this cracking noise, and I thought, how on earth can my shirt be making that sound? Then I realized it was coming from the sleeve. It ripped apart. When I put it on. I think I did something to it when I ironed it. I ironed the sleeves together. They stuck. But the left arm wasn't like that. So I just rolled up both sleeves thinking the tear wouldn't show, but it did. But I didn't really care. I checked the label and come to find out, it says "cool iron only." Now you tell me what good is a "cool iron" going to do. Do they even make them like that? That's like getting your water from a "dry faucet." I hate anything clothing-mainenance-wise. That's the only downside to my job, I have to wear a white shirt, the crispy nice kind, with buttons and everything. And this unfortunately means an iron is involved. I hate ironing. I haven't ironed anything since I was married over a decade ago, and even then I was fired from the job. Apparently I didn't do it right and my ex just said one day DAMMIT AMY can you at least hang the shirts right on the hanger? Button the top button at the very least? I never saw what the big deal was. What, now in addition to loving wife, mother, and homemaker, now I'm his laundress?

Speaking of him. Today he corrected me on something. He said that not only did I donate my leather jacket to the CMA, but his as well. I have no recollection of that. Must have been on a separate occasion. That's what he gets.

Tonight at work I made a security guard mad. I was heading towards the ATM to make the deposit, when all these security guards started freaking out and ordering everyone around, putting us all in the back hallway thing, talking on their walkie-talkies and being mean. There was a tornado warning. So like schoolchildren we sat in the hallway. Then when it was over I told one of them I need to go back and finish closing up my store and he said ok. So I did. Then about 10 minutes later I came out and was locking the gate and one of them comes up to me and said, all mean. EXCUSE ME, DIDN'T YOU KNOW ABOUT THE TORNADO WARNING? WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN YOUR STORE? That's when I told him, another security guy said I could go back. And he goes, Oh. I was just wondering, you just came outta there all nonchalant like nothing happened. I just stood there and looked at him. He was not being funny. He was irritated? With me? So I looked at him and said, What, am I in school or something? You sending me to the principal's office now? I said it with a smile but he shook his head and stormed off. Punk. I already told him they said it was ok. Whatever!

But about my shirt. I considered tossing it in the trash seeing as how I only paid $3.00 for it at the thrift store, but no. I think I'm going to sew it up myself. But not on the sewing machine. If I ever actually sit and operate a sewing machine, just go ahead and shoot me. My life as a creative genius will officially be over.

I'm worried. Because I just so happened to see some applications that are being reviewed at my job. They were just left out on the desk so I had to go ahead and take a look. One is some woman who has her own home business: "in-home parties featuring sexual health products for women". And then the next application- some guy who owns his own "small movie production company." But of course. Take your pick. Which one of these will I be working alongside? The woman with a toybox, or the porn maker? Hopefully neither.

I just re-read what I wrote about my shirt and realized it doesn't make sense. What I meant to say was, I ironed the right sleeve shut. Do you know what I'm talking about?

http://www.myspace.com/amy_nohrmal

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