Okay, before I get started with today's topic, I have to ask. Did anyone watch the Season Finale of Nip/Tuck last night? OMG!!!!!!!!!! I can't believe I almost missed it! I got up out of bed at 11:00 PM because silly me missed the 9:00 show! Bless F/X!
It was well worth getting up for just to confirm that my suspicions about The Carver were right all along--but the twist--heavens!
Can anyone tell me who The Carver was? Anybody...anybody...Bueller? If you can, I have a pressie for you.
Alright, sorry, I had to get that out of my system.
So, anyway, Dakota's dirt digging made me stop and think about how, well, boring I was. I'll be frank, I panicked. Because I couldn't remember one naughty, exciting thing that I'd done. There I sat at the kitchen table, a paper bag over my mouth, forcing myself to take deep breaths and not dial 911. I don't think they would have understood. I decided I needed to meditate on my dilemma.
I curled up in my little bed, pulled the covers over my head, chased the cat away and pushed back the childbirth induced fog that had clouded my memory and started laughing. You know those bags they have in the produce section? (And NO I didn't take one to bed with me and put it over my mouth). They're really
really thin!
One day, long ago, in my pre-child, thin, semi-hottie days, my roommate and I got up early and tripped off to the local grocery store because you see, even party girls need to eat. Unfortunately said party girls didn't exactly live in the best part of town. We were new in the neighborhood and figured one grocery store was as good as the next, right? Neither of us had been in a store that kept a huge horse trough of dried pinto beans in the produce section.
Are you still with me?
We stood there in awe at the sight of so many beans, and she says, "Get some. They're cheap."
And I said, "You know how to cook pinto beans?" Yes, I was amazed and impressed with her prowess in the kitchen. While I filled the (very thin) produce bag half full of beans, because well, I have
no idea how much beans three people will eat, I start telling her about my older brother.
He tried to teach a rooster to fly.
Well, we got the giggles at the image of my 9 YO brother swinging a rooster over his head (by a rope) and shouting, "FLY ROOSTER FLY" at the top of his lungs. I got so tickled, in fact, I decided to immitate him. Lo and behold, I raised that (very thin) produce bag of beans over my head and hoarsely cried out, "FLY ROOSTER FLY!" in the middle of the produce section of my local grocery store.
Did I mention how darned
thin those bags were? To our absolute horror and amazement, the bag busted.
We stood there staring in horror and amazement at the mess we'd...okay I'd created, a sea of pinto beans, then ran like the cowardly party girls we were to the oposite end of the store.
And that is probably one of the funniest, most embarrassing things I've ever done (followed closely by falling down while bowling).
Midlife crisis successfully averted.
Soooooooooo, now it's your turn. You don't have to tell-all to win a pressie (you can just leave a friendly comment if you like), but if you play, I'll be your friend forever. And, I'll never tell a soul. Share your embarrassing moments. Don't fret; you're among friends here, friends who'll laugh with you, not
at you. I promise. I'll even let you be annonymous, just use an alias.
Your reward? A download of Sasha White's "The Devil Inside" because everyone's got a bit of the devil in 'em, or a copy of my own "Once in a Blue Moon" because even bad girls need love, a copy of Wrangler Cowboy Christmas Volume VIII (including songs from Mark Wills, Vince Gill, Reba McEntire and George Strait) because even bad girls like Christmas music and Chocolate...the truly non-fattening kind (Origins Cocoa Therapy Instant Chocolate Fix) because naughty girls, and even reformed naughty girls, need to watch their figure.
And just a little FYI, apparently roosters don't *really* fly.