If you are faint of heart, find another blog.
If you are newly-related to me, proceed with caution.
This post will prove to be a touch risque. I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to take my blog into a vulgar direction, but this story I am about to tell you is actually hysterical and I, myself, will be laughing as I type it.
This is your last chance to turn-around....
SERIOUSLY....
So, as many of you are aware, my husband travels frequently for his job. He is away for days at a time and toward the end of each trip, we are both happy to have him back at home.
Well, at the close of one trip, many many moons ago in January, I decided to plan a special evening for him. I was scheduled to pick him up at the airport around 9:00pm, so I spent the better half of 3 hours primping and preparing myself. I'm not sure exactly what got into me, but I decided to be playful and shock the socks of him when I picked him up.
It was nearing the time in which I had to begin my trek to O'hare, so I slithered on a pair of fishnet stockings that paired perfectly with some carefully chosen lingerie. I shook out my sex-vixen barrel curls, spritzed on some perfume, stepped into my high-heeled tall black boots, and cinched my trench coat. I was ready to go. (This may all sound cliche to you, but that is exactly what I was going for).
I raced down the three flights of stairs and into my car, eager to get to the airport and gauge Patrick's reaction. I sent a text message to my 4 college girlfriends (whom will be referred to as, "THE GIRLS," from here on out), giving them a hint of my quest and telling them to pray that I did not ironically end up stranded on the side of the road. I received electronics giggles and well-wishes in response as I merged onto I-90.
BAH-BUMP-BAH-BUMP-BUMP-BUMP!!!!
Not even 1 minute later, I hit a pot-hole and my tire was down for the count!! Naturally, I am panicked and shouting a slew of curse words that would make my grandma blush. In this moment, I truly did not know how I was going to fix my tire, but, what I did know is that I was NOT getting stuck on the side of Chicago's busiest tollway at 9 o'clock at night in my lacy skivvies. I can only imagine the disbelief of a police officer pulling over to help me as I frantically explain that I was not headed to work my night job....
Nope, not. going. to. happen. So, I put on my flashers and I drive 20 mph with cars whizzing past me. I bump, bump, bump down the interstate with an air of determination. I can feel the pull of my tire as I'm certainly crushing my rim at this point, but I only have to make it 4 miles. And, I did. As I'm sitting at a stoplight at the bottom of the off-ramp, wating to turn into a store parking lot, a lady in the car next to me is waving her arms around and pointing at my tire. I politely acknowledge her and then sever any further eye contact.
Eventually, I make it to a parking lot but amidst many of the obvious problems in this situation, Patrick still needs a ride home. So, I sheepishly call him, give him my location, and tell him that I have a flat. He, as any protective man would do, offers to call his dad to come assist me until he can get there. I practically scream that I don't think its a good idea. His response? "Why, what are you, naked???" Oh, for the love of all things Holy, YES! The jig is up. I had to give myself away because at this point, I'm not calling Triple A, I do not need my future father-in-law to witness this pathetic scene, and I don't think my fishnets offer much by the way of cushioning for me to change my own flat tire in the snow. We settle on that fact that I still sit tight and await his arrival in a cab.
In the meantime, I call my mom. She doesn't answer. So, I call again.
Mom: "Hello?"
Me: "Hey mom. Whatcha doin?"
Mom: "In the car with your dad, Aunt Brenda, and Uncle Rod. We just had dinner, now headed for a drink."
Me: "Oh neat. I have a flat tire."
Mom: "Are you ok? Did you call someone?"
Me: "Yea. Pat is on his way. Oh, by the way, I'm in my underwear. The fancy kind."
Mom: "Wait, what?"
Me: "Yes, you heard me."
Mom: SILENCE
Mom: long, loud, laughter and her telling my aunt, uncle, and dad the story!
I know your jaws have all hit the floor in shock that A. I told my mom and B. She told my dad. Well, you'd have to know us, but we're that kind of family; hence, her laughter. My dad made some comment in the background about not getting out otherwise my butt cheeks might get frost bite and atleast I left the house wearing clean underwear. At this point, I had to hang up, there was not much left to chat about.
Finally, Patrick arrives and practically has to shoo the courteous cab driver away as he offers to help. Pat opens the door, puts his suitcase inside and just looks at me. I'm still wearing my coat and he catches a glimpse of the fishnets and starts laughing. I glare at him and he proceeds to change the tire.
After all of that drama, we were on our way home within 15 minutes. Pat was driving and he reaches over to put his hand on my knee and I glare at him again, then yank it away. I had temporarily lost the humor of the situation and I didn't find it again until I was at home, warm, and wearing sweat pants.....
I learned a lot that night. I most certainly don't send text messages to my friends that are certain to doom me into jinxing myself incase I do decide to try it again... ;)
L-O-V-E
ReplyDelete