Barf Central

The other day I had a meeting downtown and figured I would dig out one of my "business" purses from the closet. It's this huge awesome black purse that can hold a laptop and oh-so-much more.

Anyway, I get to my meeting and the person I'm scheduled to chat with is running a few minutes behind. As I had a bit of alone time in the boardroom, I figured I could discreetly organize a couple things in my purse. No, I did not tip it over and dump the contents out on the table ... I'm not that idiotic! I just looked into it and shuffled a few things here and there. Then I came across a part of the purse that I almost never use - it's a section that has a separate zipper to keep it closed and it was partially unzipped when I found it that morning and didn't think anything of it.

So I unzipped it, looked in and gasped.

Just then, I saw the girl I was meeting coming over, so I placed my purse down and attempted to act all natural-like for the next hour.

What was in my purse, dear reader asks?

Oh, nothing. JUST A DEAD BABY MOUSE.

If I get any jobs from the girl I met, it is because I am a magician / Jedi who cast a spell on her that said "IGNORE THE CRAZY LOOK ON MY FACE. HIRE ME FOR THINGS. I'm NOT looking at my purse every five minutes, I am actually coming up with GENIUS CONVERSATION POINTS and am SIMPLY GLANCING AT THE GROUND AS I DO THIS." The entire time I was talking to her, I kept imagining a zombie mouse climbing out of my pseudo-briefcase and attacking the both of us.

I am not cut out for life. Nor was the baby mouse, apparently.