Archive | January, 2014

I Backed My Thang Way Up

15 Jan

I was taking a shower this morning, like I sometimes do. {cough}  As I was about to rinse out my hair, I realized that my shower comb was on the vanity.  Any woman with more than 3 inches of hair knows that if you don’t want tangles, you need a shower comb! You just DO.

Instead of going through the hassle of turning off the water, patting dry and retrieving the comb, I slid the shower door open just enough to allow my teensy body through without getting water everywhere.

With one foot in the shower and the other on the rug, I reached out and grabbed the comb.

I guess I miscalculated my body mass, because on the way back the shower door somehow got lodged between my butt cheeks!!

Woman in shower2

I turned sharply right and then left.  The glass door shook with a vengeance and sounded as if it was about to shatter, but remained wedged in place.

Get out of there, door!

{Images of glass shards in my vulnerable bits; paramedics making a daring, yet awkward, rescue; a medical team harassing me with embarrassing questions}

“How exactly does one get a shower door stuck in their butt crack?”

“Why didn’t you slide the door open more?”

“She must’ve thought she was “teensy” [shut up, imaginary doctor! I am too, teensy].

As the panic set in further, I became dizzy.

Not only was I naked, stuck in an awkward position and too terrified to move, I was also on the verge of passing out.  Fantastic…

Luckily, I recuperated my wits and moved my hips forward (instead of in a panicky side-to-side motion – duh!) thereby dislodging the intrusive glass door.

If my life were a movie, Juvenile’s “Back That Thang Up” would’ve started playing in the background.

Girl, you looks good, won’t you back that thang up

You’se a big fine woman, won’t you back that thang up

Call me Big Daddy when you back that thang up

Girl, who is you playin wit? Back that thang up


I See Awkwardness In Your Future

3 Jan

I had met up with my friend, Lanie, for dinner and drinks.  We had been discussing our lives, our hopes, our dreams {insert girlish sighing}, etc. when Lanie suggested we visit a psychic.


After the first round of drinks, the idea of visiting a psychic was funny.  After the second round of drinks, it seemed legit.  After the fifth round of drinks {don’t judge us!} it seemed like THE MOST FANTASTIC IDEA OF ALL TIME!

I could’ve sworn someone told me of a psychic that operated out of an old house a few blocks up the street from our restaurant.  It must be kismet!  We stumbled our way up Main Street until I saw a house that looked “psychic-y”.

Me: “THIS is it!” {Strolling confidently toward front door}

Lanie: {Strolling slightly less confidently} “Are you sure?”

Me: “Yeeeeeeeesssssssssssssssssssss” {(eye roll) Begin to open door}

Lanie: “WAIT! Shouldn’t we knock first?”

Me: “NO! It’s a business! Since when do you knock on a shop door? Come on, will you! I need to get my tarot on!” {Stumble ever so slightly on first porch step; catch myself; hear Lanie make an uncertain noise}

{I open front door and see a large group of men.  Suddenly, a collie puppy comes running up to me, tail wagging}

Me: “PUPPY!!!!!” {Immediately fall to knees and begin petting puppy’s tummy}

Lanie: {Holding door open, but remains standing on porch} “Um…” {nudging my shoulder}

Me: {Am now sprawled out on entrance floor, fully engrossed in puppy cuddles, beside myself with joy.  Only slightly aware of the line of men waiting to see the psychic}

Lanie: {Begins tugging on my shoulder; whispers} “Are you suuure this is a psychic?”

Me: “YES! Obviously!!” {Look up at group of men who are in process of seating themselves around a table} “This is the psychic’s house, right?”

Head Guy: “What?”

Me: {Exasperated sigh} The psychic. {Duh!}  She lives here, right?

Lanie: {Lets door slowly shut on me and begins walking back down sidewalk}

Head Guy: “Noooo. This is my house. {He pauses, but when I don’t move he continues speaking} I live here.

Me: {blink}

Head Guy: “I…there is no psychic here. I think you and your friend have the wrong house?”

Me:  {Continue on floor with a puppy on my lap trying to make sense of what this ridiculous man is saying.}

Lanie: {Grabs me by my shirt and drags me out of the house}

It was only after I had left the house that I realized we had crashed that guy’s poker night.  There was no psychic on the premise.  I had simply gotten the address wrong.

In my defense… he had a creepy house!