Ha, psyche! It's not beautiful at all. It's gross. And it probably doesn't need to be shared with all of the internets, but I am bored and don't feel like studying Organizational Behavior
(Side note: One of the electives for my major is called "Organizational Behavior." It is one of the few that is offered through Independent Study, so even though I had no idea what it was about, I enrolled. I assumed it would be a class about keeping a planner and sorting your closet or something like that. No sir! It is this big complicated business class about Effective Organizations in the work place. It's not that hard, except that I don't understand any of their fancy shmancy business talk. This was a horrible surprise, as I was very excited about learning about sorting and organizing closets. Rats.)
After that very relevant tangent, here is the story:
Once upon a time, I was experiencing a very embarrassing medical situation. We are talking humiliating. I have pondered just biting the bullet and telling you guys what it was, but it is really just too weird. So just know that it is not something you want your casual friends to know details about. I was hanging out with my brother and sister and since I have no sense of propriety, we were doing a little google search about my particular awkward health issue. They were already relishing in my discomfort and enjoying many laughs at my expense. At the same time, I was also having a little facebook chat session with my brother's friend. I am friends with this guy, but not overly so. Not in a way that would allow sharing of embarrassing medical information. Also, I may or may not have been harboring a little crush on this friend of my brothers. Between browsing symptoms and treatment of said ailment, I would pause to chat with this friend. Somehow as I went to click into the chat box, in one horrifying instant, everything I had been looking at about my problem copied and pasted into the chat window and sent. It was like watching a horror movie, watching the chat window fill up with page after page of information about my embarrassing problem. In a state of panicked frenzy, I pressed buttons and keys and tried to bargain with the devil to undo what had just been done, but it appeared to be too late. After I regained consciousness from my multiple heart attacks, I frantically tried to figure out ways to explain why I decided to send him 15 pages of medical grossness. All the while my siblings were rolling around on the floor laughing and snorting and crying and being generally unsupportive of my predicament. I think Matt might have wet his pants. Thankfully, there is a merciful God in heaven, and the chat window froze and shut down and none of the information actually got sent. I was very relieved as I put down the noose I had been tying.
And my siblings are going straight to Hell for being so cold in my time of need. They still erupt into unstoppable giggling should the situation ever be mentioned. And they make it a point to mention it. Often.