3

I swore to God this morning that if anybody else mentioned my inside-out shirt to me, I would punch him in the face. Now this nun, a goddamn nun, was telling me my goddamn shirt was inside-out like she was my personal dresser. Carson freaking Kressley gay married to Jesus and all dolled up in a habit whispering fashion advice to me. Like I could take off my shirt right here on the goddamn bus and turn it right-side-out and put it back on without everybody thinking that was a whole hellava lot worse than just a freaking tag sticking out and maybe some visible seams. Who the hell cared? And now I had to punch this stupid, goddamn nun in the face. My luck.