One day I will learn my lesson about wearing shirts with words on them. Every time some idiot asks "what does your shirt say?" so that I can read aloud to them, or every time they stare at it and read it aloud for themselves, I swear again, no more wearing shirts with words. And then today, one of the office creeps (yeah, you heard me, not the, but one of the) leaned in so that he can pause three inches from my chest to read the charity slogan across my boobs. And no, the print isn't that small. I might just be cured of t-shirts.
Mom sent me this link today. Teenagers are so much cooler than they used to be.