Shocking, Eye-Opening News: Did you know that if you shove someone on an airplane, you could osteensibly cause them to lose their faith AND develop hemorrhoids? I'm Switzerland neutral in this ordeal, but I do find it humorous that hemorrhoids are at the seat of this suit. What really happened on that flight? We'll probably never really know. It's Victoria's Secret.
"I Know You Think I Make This Stuff Up"
Did I mention that I'm having hot flashes now? This is not only pertinent to this story but also foreshadows a lengthy post soon to come on the intricacies involved in said hot flashing.
But for now, let me just understate my experience by saying that I'm a walking bubbling volcano. Wednesday morning, I was running late for work, and as I got out of the shower, I felt Vesuvius rising in my torso before I could even get dried off and dressed. I grabbed my handy-dandy 12" fan from my nightstand and held it on myself like you do a hair dryer on your hair.
This slowed me down even more, so I threw on all of my clothes and headed toward the door, only to cast a backward glance at myself in a full-length mirror and see--the dreaded panty line. Impossibly short on time, I grabbed a pair of specialized line-less panties out of my drawer and dashed out.
I drove like a speed demon to work. Not really, but 5 mph over the limit feels wild to me. (Like when I sometimes do not clean the lint filter before drying a load of laundry ... on purpose. I know; I'm the Evel Knievel of laundry.)
I parked, grabbed up all of my things that I schlep into work each morning, walked into the building, greeted people and made straight for the restroom to switch my underwear, which is when I realized I had merely bunched up the 2nd pair in my fist as opposed to sticking it in my bag, so it was all exposed for the world to see. If my co-workers saw it, they didn't say anything. If they saw it, I'm sure they thought, "I must pretend not to notice that Ditzy is carrying wadded up underwear in her hand. Must pretend. Must be appear to be oblivious."
When I got inside the stall, I made the switch, but still reeling from embarrassment and being the creature of mindless habit that I am, instead of sticking the first pair in my bag, I simply tossed them into the toilet like toilet paper, as if I thought, "Be gone, panties that show your lines!"
I considered flushing them, but saw the whole custodian scenario flash before my eyes, so I fished them out and trashed them. And that is the latest edition of "I Know You Think I Make This Stuff Up."
Final chapter of this post:RE-CAP on Oneighty Talk
Many of you (one) asked me to re-cap my talk Wednesday night at Oneighty.
Drumroll: It went OK.
There were roughly 60 kids there, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Whether or not the kids enjoyed it, I do not know.
My daughter was NOT thrilled that I used all of the pics from this post to start my talk, but I did, and she lived, although she covered her face. At least I didn't tell the wadded up panties story.
But here's how I know she secretly loves me: Before the talk, she came up to me and said, "Let me see your teeth." So I bared them, and they passed inspection. Suddenly I was emotionally overcome by her protective measures on my behalf. Until I realized she was simply trying to avoid even more embarrassment. Oh well.
When it was over, she actually said I did a good job. And that was before I bought her the Sprite on the way home. Little did she know that if she had said "great job," she would've been one Taco Bell Mango Strawberry Fruitista Freeze richer.