macaroni chicharrones

that thing where you are using a knife irresponsibly (in my case, cubing half a mango in my hand because i was too lazy to clean the garlic-y onion-y cutting board, though in retrospect i didn't need to clean the cutting board because the only thing that was going to be touching it was the outside of the mango, but my brain was not yet awake) and the blade runs across your hand and you feel the feeling of "shit i cut myself" but you also know that there's a chance that it was just a very surface cut and won't actually bleed and so you're standing there waiting for the appearance of the blood. thankful that this "cut" didn't bleed. 

(this is not some kind of tortured extended metaphor, read a newspaper if you want the news, i have no energy for that)

i had a really good day at work—all five of my meetings were productive and nice, even (maybe especially) the customer call that i did not want to take, i took over writing an email to a really mean customer for my coworker who was feeling stressed out about it, and i figured out a way to script a solution to a problem and documented that for my team

the ridiculous ad i got for this jaw developing tool: