Previously undiscovered levels of inappropriateness

So I've discovered a new level of inappropriateness, but it requires a backstory first. I'm at work now on 10:15 break, so I can't say that today is the dumbest day ever; it isn't over yet. But it HAS been dumb so far.

So let's set the stage. I'm on my way to work. It's about 7:15 am and I've already been driving for a little over forty-five on the way to work. It's beautiful outside, the first truly sunny day in nearly a week here in Virginia. It's also Friday, which meant I was off to a good start already. PLUS my supervisor is taking the day off (more on him some other time!)

I notice that I am getting down to a quarter of a tank of gas. I don't like letting my tank get below a quarter because it supposedly sucks all the delicious sediment out of your gas tank and into your engine. I know I'm coming up on a gas station, so I pull over, knowing that I won't want to stop on the way home (it is Friday, after all). So I stop for gas. I go through all the usual motions, and then the pump bleeps at me. The numbers stop rolling, and the display is telling me "thank you" and asking whether I want a receipt. So like any normal, slightly sleepy person would do, I pull the nozzle out of my gassy-hole thing. Big mistake. Gas goes shooting everywhere. From the waist down I am soaked, and my shoes are full of gas.

Now, I'm about fifteen minutes from work, so there is absolutely no point in turning around and driving forty-five minutes home trapped in a car full of gas fumes. So I get back in the car, roll down all the windows, and head in to work. I must have looked a fright coming out of the elevator. Extremely annoyed, smelling like a lawn mower, hair looking like a rat's nest from all the wind. I quickly explain to everybody what happened and head to the bathroom to clean up, telling everyone that if they don't want to see my butt, they should avoid the ladies'.

So I wash up, but I still smell and I'm soaked, so I decided to run over to Target to pick up some clean clothes off the clearance rack. I go to tell one of my coworkers with whom I share a cubicle wall so that someone knows where I've gone. While I'm in the process of talking to Jeanette, another woman who I work with (who will remain nameless) comes over to talk. I say I'm going out to get fresh clothes. She and Jeanette both say that they can't smell anything, but she takes it further than Jeanette. Seriously, prepare yourself for this.

SHE BENDS OVER, PUTS HER FACE NEXT TO MY CROTCH, AND SNIFFS MY SKIRT.

I mean, seriously. What. The. Hell. WHO SNIFFS SOMEONE ELSE'S CROTCH?!

Now, the crappiness did not end there, but I'll wait till tomorrow to post the rest. You know, to let the crotch-sniff really sink in and completely break your mind.

At least I saw this totally beautiful Luna moth who unfortunately sort of looked like he was on his last leg.