Two a. m. and there I was, snug in my bed, sound asleep, dreaming about--well, just never you mind what I was dreaming about--when the message alert on my cell phone goes off. "What the fu... uh, hell?" thinks I. "Who texts me at TWO IN THE 'EFFIN' MORNING?
Oh, yeah. Sarah. Who has a wild and wooly life so I don't have to.
"So, at one point last night i walked into a living room full of people and my underwear fell out of the leg of my pants."
WTF? Admittedly, I wasn't full awake as I read this, but still, I was having a very difficult time trying to figure out how this was at all possible. I mean, I know a little about topology, about Mobius strips and Klein bottles, I kinda sorta understand how a woman can remove her brassiere in front of a gentleman caller without removing her sweatshirt (courtesy of an enforced viewing--don't ask-- of Flashdance), but for the life of me I couldn't figure out this one.
Still, I had certain textual obligations and so dutifully replied, (mustn't laugh...mustn't laugh...good friends are supportive... aw, f*** it) How the HELL did you manage THAT?
Reply?
"I couldn't find them. So i didn't put them on. Then i found them. Luckily everyone was on acid so there were bigger things going on."
Really, I should write a book.
1 comment:
Great readd thank you
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