Undercrackers.

I draw power from my underwear.

No, sit down, listen.

Basically I appear to be one of those people who will sit back and watch as someone cuts in front of me in a shop, or will sit and allow herself to be yelled at by a grouchy customer who refuses to acknowledge that I work for a store that sells electronics, not Sony itself. Someone might smirk at me because I'm kinda-sorta fat (plump is more accurate) and absolutely LOVE running*, exercise and shit.

I also have a penchant for underwear. I lovelovelove buying bras and pants (pants = panties in this here part of the world) and socks and tights in wild colours and awesome patterns. Like at school when I had to wear solid black for my uniform, I'd wear neon yellow leg warmers and bright green and red socks.

At work I take a lot of crap. My badge should say 'Nicole - taker of shit' because that's all I seem to get. Yes, I'm sorry your car got broken into, sure I'll replace the car seat for you but FOR SHIT'S SAKE! IT'S NOT MY FAULT THE POLICE ARE TAKING SO LONG TO BLOODY RECOVER IT. And SCREW YOU! I'M WEARING A BRIGHT YELLOW BRA.

If my mum starts arguing about.. oh.. anything.. I zone out and focus on the niiiice silk pants. Looooovely silk pants. These socks are full of holes but the pants are niiiiiice... Sorry, what?

If someone (heaven forbid) calls me boring I have no problem telling them that 'Actually, you should see the underwear I'm packing right now, buddy.'

My friend Mo-Balls used to have an awesome pair of boxers with like.. superheroes on them with BAM and POW and stuff on them which she called her 'Power Pants'. I totally get that.

*Though I've had to kinda quit the running for a little while, I've strained all the tendons in my foot. Joy.