3 things to tell you
#1 my mother called me this week to tell me she had surgery but didn't want to tell me ahead of time so I wouldn't "worry".... Um.... I feel more pissed than thankful about the not telling me part. However, I am glad she is doing well and the surgery doesn't appear to be botched this time.... And people wonder why I'm so messed up. "Honey, I just wanted to tell you I didn't die this weekend. Surgery went fine"... "What surgery mom?" ... " Oh I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry"... "Um ok so why are you telling me it went fine, you know me so well, now I'll worry about your recovery and if they botched the surgery again.. Then it will pile up into this massive snowball of worry. I'll probably hyperventillate and pass out. Maybe this time I'll break my head open instead of just spraining my hand and banging myself up"... Ok so I didn't say that last part - I wish I could but come on the woman is recovering from surgery.
#2 I pulled in to get gas, it's 8:30 pm. I see a gleaming, sparkling, dazzling white car just like mine and pull to the pump ahead of it. I exit my car and a song that keeps repeating "runaway, runaway, runaway" is blaring. I'm filling the car and looking around, trying to be aware of my surroundings as the song is starting to sound like a warning rather than just some crappy musak. ACK!!!! What did I see? Bent over the engine of the gleaming white car is a 50+ year old man in white boat shoes, white pants pulled up almost to his armpits, and a white button up cowboy collar shirt. He's sporting a full on wedgie and when he turns it's obvious that those pants have nestled up in his boys presenting a classic Melvin. The pants are practically see through. He was wearing tighty whities that looked to be 3 sizes too small... The whole scene was painful. I wanted to laugh but the song increased in intensity and this oddly out of place man all started to make me feel like I was suffocating. I felt like breaking into a full run across the road like a frightened gazelle. Everytime I'd try to get the pump to stop on an even number it would rollover to xx.01 Damn it, Damn it! I always have to have a round number or a 25 cent ending - why why??? Finally the tank was full. Threw on the gas cap and tore out of there so fast I could hear the Dukes of Hazard theme playing in my head.
#3 I have a fair amount of odd habits.. Maybe ill compose a list
#2 I pulled in to get gas, it's 8:30 pm. I see a gleaming, sparkling, dazzling white car just like mine and pull to the pump ahead of it. I exit my car and a song that keeps repeating "runaway, runaway, runaway" is blaring. I'm filling the car and looking around, trying to be aware of my surroundings as the song is starting to sound like a warning rather than just some crappy musak. ACK!!!! What did I see? Bent over the engine of the gleaming white car is a 50+ year old man in white boat shoes, white pants pulled up almost to his armpits, and a white button up cowboy collar shirt. He's sporting a full on wedgie and when he turns it's obvious that those pants have nestled up in his boys presenting a classic Melvin. The pants are practically see through. He was wearing tighty whities that looked to be 3 sizes too small... The whole scene was painful. I wanted to laugh but the song increased in intensity and this oddly out of place man all started to make me feel like I was suffocating. I felt like breaking into a full run across the road like a frightened gazelle. Everytime I'd try to get the pump to stop on an even number it would rollover to xx.01 Damn it, Damn it! I always have to have a round number or a 25 cent ending - why why??? Finally the tank was full. Threw on the gas cap and tore out of there so fast I could hear the Dukes of Hazard theme playing in my head.
#3 I have a fair amount of odd habits.. Maybe ill compose a list
posted by Fidget @ Tuesday, February 08, 2005
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