Thursday, January 13, 2011

disRobed much, suckas?

In the last week, I’ve had more than a few robe malfunctions. I have now decided to quit wearing a robe, so I’m *forced* to get dress decently should I be driving. There are three important things you should *not*, under ANY circumstances, do in a robe.

1. Drop off kids at school.

Dropping off children at school can scar your friendly principal, *especially* when said mother looks like she’s one straight-jacket short of the institution. Really. I was wearing blue tri-color striped pajamas with orange paint stains, attempting to cover them with a nicer looking robe (Christmas present…for Quentin) – last minute – when the principal suddenly steps out to open the car door for Gracelyn. My hair was also sticking out in 90 different directions, doing something I’d cuss on a good day trying to get it to do…..but then stuck a fork in a light socket, and it all went downhill. *Not* a good look for me. I know, I know, you have a *real* hard time believing there couldn’t possibly be something that fit that description, right? Meh.

2. Get gas.

A few days ago I woke up to a chilly 25 degree temp outside. Fortunately I’d made it to the bus stop in time *with* my children (don’t judge me), and figured I should get gas while the car was warmed up. Lest I not need remind you what I was wearing. Again. At least it was clean!! I think. I told myself that surely *no one* in their right mind would be out getting gas, *especially* on the end of 20+ gas pumps…and on the positive, it was still dark outside. I pulled in, turned the car off, and was about to open the door when Mr. I’m-So-Awesome-Because-I-Have-*NO*-Trouble-Getting-To-Work-When-There’s-An-Inch-Of-Ice-On-The-Road-*AND*-I-Managed-To-Fix-My-Suave-Hair Dude pulls up next to me. Figures. I pretended to look through my purse for a credit card already in my lap, waiting for the hours to pass so he’d go inside the station, get back in his truck, read a book, look at himself in the mirror…ANYTHING!!! But nooooooo, fate would not have it. Instead, he finally turned his back to me, and looked like he was doing something important. Wouldn’t you know that dirty scum-sucker turned around at the *very* moment I stepped out of the car, and the heavens parted – the angels sang – and the sun shone on me like I was princess. Except I wasn’t princess, or even a homeless one. What’s that you say? I couldn’t have looked *that* bad? Oh really. Not *even* in my fur boots, with one ripped open to display my foot?! Yeah, what was that? Suck it.

3. Jog on the side of the road.

For reasons that aren’t the topic of today’s blog, I’ve never been much of a jogger, lest I be killed or maimed in some fashion (that would at *least* be funny for a news article). About the only time you’ll see me *attempting* to do such an absurd this is when I’m running after one of my heathen spawn, after they painted the dog blue. Again. For the 3rd time. With permanent markers. Wearing only their underwear. In sub-zero temperatures. I digress.

Anyhow. I was bound and determined to beat the bus to the stop this morning. I thought for a good *minute* about putting my blue jeans on, but then figured I’d have plenty of time to do that before taking the 2nd set of kids to school. Little did I know exactly how much time I’d have. I pulled into Mom’s driveway, turned the car around, and waited for 15 minutes for the bus. The car decided to act like a girl (This girl?! Never) and quit running. Literally. I waited for the bus to get the kids, and then called Mom for gas. Technically her driveway isn’t *that* long, but after the gas station incident, I decided against the whole homeless fur boot look. Wouldn’t you know Mom was alllllll out. Next step? To the neighbors house! Yeah, uh, except that involved mud, and cold, and wind, and hell, fire and brimstone, and bad hair, bad pajamas, and a robe. Mom jumped in my car so I could use her shoes, and then I proceeded to run down the road, in PUBLIC!!, looking like that. At least this time I had on *black* pajamas, so you *totally* couldn’t even tell it was the same person as the other 2 times. You wanna know how many cars passed me?! MORE than a few. Bunch’a crap if you ask me. I sprint down their driveway, and Danny was outside getting ready to leave for work. I'm sure I scared the piss outta him, and wouldn't you know...He was out of gas too. The rest of the morning was *pure* joy, from squeezing mom’s car through the tiny gate opening left by my car, to soaking myself and God’s green earth with half the gasoline I got. Still now, almost 9 hours after my shower? I smell like I *just* sprayed on some of my newest eau du parfum – Octane.

I hope this helps some of you *fine* people not make the same mistakes. Instead, make brand new ones, and share your tips with me! Oh, and a tip for an unknown restaurant advertising on the radio: Meatball Slider? Is *not* a good name for a dish. Can it, suckas, because it does *not* make me hungry.

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