When bunnies scream...

I hate mornings. The only reason that I love starting work at 8am is because I can avoid interacting with people by leaving for work at 7 instead of 8. If someone merely bumps into me in the morning, I want to bite their ears off. So this morning leaving at 545 for the subway for the long, nearly 2 hour journey to a "networking breakfast" which we were some of the people the students were networking with, I was not in great spirits on the ride out. 2 things that made this morning a little more interesting:

1) It helped me to see that the woman sitting in front of me in the nice outfit had her sweater on inside out. Very obviously on inside out - labels out, seams, everything. Is it bad that I didn't tell her? I mean, there is nothing she could have done on the bus. Maybe I should have told her.

2) Once at the event when setting up with my colleagues, I went to reach below the table to grab something and bashed my face full force on the table. My lip got smashed and swelled up and my nose was hit causing my eyes to tear. It also made a terrible enough noise to make everyone go "WHOA, are you OK?". Hi, my name is Kathryn and I am a spazz. (Either that or it's karma for not telling the lady her sweater was on inside out).

I think things like that happen to me when I am nervous. One time the most strange thing happened. I was an exchange student in Denmark and on like my 3rd day of school some girls from my class invited me to go to the bakery to get a few danish (the pastry) during lunch (don't even get me started on how good they are - 30 pounds speak for themselves), and I went and got a julekage and a coke and we sat at a picnic table and they talked to me and were all nice speaking English to me and making me feel welcome. My hand was on my coke bottle and I can't explain happened next but I was just listening to someone talk and I went to pick up my coke when suddenly my hand slammed the coke down onto the table, banging and causing coke to fly out of the bottle all over myself and the girls. They just sat there staring at me wondering what I had done and I had no idea, nor did I have any way of explaining why my hand spazzed the way it did. I just sat there in silence, my face burning, my hand still gripping the damned coke bottle.

OK, terrifying, nightmare-inducing video of a bunny screaming... (link via dooce)