Kate, let me join in the chorus welcoming you to the SDMB. I think you’re gonna fit in real well here.
In fact, I predict many invitations for coffee… 
welcome aboard.
Yeah, it’s a bit of a Catch 22. Wait, sorry, that might be too high falutin’ a reference for you. You’re stuck in a recursive… no, umm, a vicious… hmmmm…
You’re up shit’s creek without a paddle. Or, as the kids these days say, you’re carrying two cups of starbucks while going commando.
Ahahahaha - you got me there. 
At least you’re not sure that no one saw you.
Back in…the spring of 1998, I spent 6 weeks in a small Missouri town for work. I’d been dieting, losing weight, but hadn’t bought any new clothes. One morning, I was wearing my favorite suit - I love it, a great green color.
I stopped at Shoney’s for breakfast before I headed into the store I was subbing/training a new manager for. Ordered the breakfast bar and a diet coke, and headed over to get my food.
I had no warning whatsoever that the skirt was going down. It was off and puddled around my ankles, right about the time I walked past a table with two older men and their wives.
Luckily, I was wearing underwear. And nylons. Yes, it was skimpy underwear, but at least it was there, dangit!
And thank og I don’t live in that town.
Riotous?
D’oh! :smack:
[sub]:: slinks away, appropriately shamed ::[/sub]