So I was at my desk this morning, and as I had just finished biking in, thought a bit of deodorant was in order.
I took the stick out of my drawer and removed the cap, and along with the cap came the stick itself, the white sticky gooey part. It fell out, onto my nice new clean black pants. Of course, my attempts to recovery the gooey thing before it hit my pants only made things much worse.
So now my nice new very black pants are covered with white deodorant stains. Try explaining that one.
I cannot wear a white shirt without spilling something onto it. It’s magnetism, or something. All other shirts I do fine with.
I love coffee, but it hates me. It will leap out of any cup in order to sully my clothes, usually about 10 minutes after I get to work. Usually, I try to cover the stain with my tie until I can get home.
(tee hee, the Google ads are for a product called "Urine Gone)
One day last week I got highlighter, pen, and chocolate on my light-colored khaki pants. At least I accomplished something that day.
There is some graphite or grease lubricant somewhere on the keyboard drawer of my desk, but I can’t find it to clean it off - it only can be discovered when it ends up on my clothes and/or skin.
I once passed out after donating blood at work and, as a result of hitting my nose, managed to get bright red blood all over a very nice white shirt. What’s more, I had a public presentation to make later that afternoon.
Stupid and embarassing? Yes, on both counts.
I can’t help but try to keep the five violins I’m carrying in my arms while trying to make a swift cup of tea. Never works.
I also frequently make the mistake of sitting on chairs which are also used by four-year-olds. Big mistake.
Hell, I don’t even own white clothing for exactly this reason.
I thought I’d be safe with black. Silly me.
It helps if you include a chainsaw with the five violins, and it simply must be running.
… you are juggling, right?
I had this candle warmer next to my desk. Now this is an electric thingy that you put a jar candle on and it warms the wax. Which gave me about a pint of bright red, melted, smelly goodness to play with during the day.
The day I wore my white dress is the day I took the candle warmer home. One second of not paying attention and I looked like a stabbing victim for the rest of the day.
I don’t know how I manage to draw short blue lines on myself with all my pens, but I do.
Also, I’ve sworn off the liquid white-out correction stuff, and go with the teeny roller dispenser of it instead. I kept wearing the damned stuff on my hands, not to mention my clothes.
Honestly, I don’t know how I do it.
(Also, why won’t anyone ever tell me when I leave the office at five o’clock with a bloody pen jauntily stuck through my ponytail? Last time I found one there, I was at the grocery store.)
** Heavy sigh **
I was cleaning out the aquarium in my classroom this afternoon, and I had dropped the stress coat drops behind the tank. I had also removed the light and cover, so I could change the filter. I leaned over the tank to grab the bottle of stress coat and promptly dipped my breasts in the fish tank. Then I had to go to a faculty meeting. :o
Gravy or sauce or dressing on the boobs. Every. Single. Time. For some reason, I just cannot eat without dropping at least one piece of food on my chest.
I went to a working lunch a while back with our then-new boss and sat across from her at the table. I unwisely had a pasta dish with long noodles and a thck sauce and at the end of the meal happened to glance down at my chest. It was liberally spattered with many drops of pale, reddish pasta juice. I’m sure she was impressed.
Heatsink thermal paste; transfer easy:
heatsink>clothes
heatsink>skin
skin>clothes
Transfer impossible:
hands>anything other than clothes
clothes>anything other than clothes.
Truly a magical compound - it wipes on so easily and remains fluid enough to be spread about, but just won’t wipe off anything.
Have you considered a career in, errrrrrm, ‘cinema’? 
Heh, I do this kind of thing all the time, except for me its the writing-implement-tucked-behind-the-ear trick (why yes, I did train as a draftsman - why do you ask?), I once went straight from work to meet up for a date with an ink drafting pen sticking jauntilly out from behind my right ear. :wally
As for food, I have a tendancy to dip my ties into whatever beverage is handy.
Well… I didn’t exactly have to wear nice work clothes, since I was a labourer, and have never worked in an office in my life. However, we did have to wear company shirts, and we were allowed to wear any pants that were black, white, blue, or some kind of neutral colour. So I often wore jeans.
No, they weren’t even nice jeans, just work jeans. But I did mess them up pretty badly and senselessly one day, and had to buy new ones, and new shoes… a new shirt, too, but we got about five of those free each year.
I was changing the ink on my jet printer (a little box doo-hickey that sprayed the code onto each of the boxes coming down my line. I was a tallyperson (previously people working that job were called “tallymen”, until a few of us girls took over, though no one that I know of insisted on political correctness, we used to sing that Day-O song all the time). Anyway, as I tallyperson, I piled boxes on a pallet, and it was my responsibility to know what the code was at all times, and if the jet printer stopped printing the code, I called the line to a halt so I could go out there and mess with the doo-hickey and make it work again.
So I go out, and the ink cartridge is empty. No big deal. I go to the supply shelf and get another jug of it, bring it back, pull out the appropriate tubes, remove old cartridge, replace with the new cartridge, attach appropriate tubes, grab a piece of paper towel and press the trigger to get the ink flowing and remove the air bubbles…
But the ink doesn’t come out.
I check all the tubes, wiggle them, deattach and reattach, press the trigger… nothing.I lift the cartridge out to check if there’s a block in the spout…
Ah, no. Somehow I managed to overlook a giant crack in one side of the cartridge, the side I’d put face down into the jet printer. When I lifted the thing up and looked at the spout… no, no. I didn’t get any ink in my face. But I did give the cartridge a little squeeze, in hopes of unblocking the spout. I deserved a squirt in the face for that one. Instead, the ink shot out of that crack in the side, now aimed at me. My jeans, my shirt, my shoes, ruined. It also took about a week of hard scrubbing in the shower to get the ink off of my skin.
The concrete floor of the factory in the spot I made that mistake still bears the slightly faded but giant black stain, much to the amusement of my old co-workers.
Fortunately, I didn’t have any meetings or anything important that day, but everyone that saw me asked if I was attacked by a giant squid. I just said yes.
I have two really good ones:
I was changing the toner cartridge in my postage machine first time. Important to know is that the ink is bright red. So…not paying attention, I wipe the back of my hand across my cheek…and to my growing horror realize I have just wiped a huge streak of red ink all over my face, directly under my eye. I run for the bathroom, and manage to avoid everyone but the building supervisor, who is a 60 YO Italian man who thinks women are to be coddled and protected. He freaks, thinking it’s blood, and runs into my office telling the girls I’ve just run to the bathroom with blood on my face, coming from my eye. I am confronted by all the ladies (4) bursting into the bathroom while I am trying to wash my face.
One of the ladies asked me to change the toner in the copier a few weeks ago. Both of us were very tried, and totally not paying attention I put a bottle of toner in that was left over from the old copier. Somehow I manage to follow the old instructions, and as soon as I lay it in there, POOF! a huge cloud of toner dust billows out and hits us, hands, clothes, everything. We were lucky it didn’t get into our faces.
in pocket
fountain pen
dark wetness spreads
I work in a lab. I have a large number of T-shirts with bleach spots around waist height from leaning against a benchtop shortly after they’d been cleaned. I’ve never gotten blood on my clothes, but that’s only because of the lab coats. There have been plenty of times when I take my coat off at the end of the day and see it liberally splattered with red dots.
I’m just glad I don’t work in the poop lab down the hall.