As most of you know I had issues with a tatted up, pierced up, thonged (not footwear) up woman at Walgreens a few days ago. After I expressed my dismay about having to see the backside, thong (not footwear) and vertical crevice, of this woman, my future husband made a comment on my post that he had bought me a thong (not footwear) for Christmas. A joke of course. As a joke of my own I came up with the brilliant idea of surprising Tom Cole on our wedding night with this certain women’s apparel. So off I go and purchase this slingshot like woman’s intimate garment. The first thing I had to determine was the size. The next was the color. Perfect! Purple crushed velvet with sequins. Silver sequins. Purchase made I decided I should probably try my new purple crushed velvet sequined thong (not footwear) on. I was somewhat nervous and even embarrassed when I looked up and noticed two Golden Retrievers, a chow and a chi chi wa wa staring at me. I am quite certain they were laughing at me as I was holding the purple blinged out piece of triangular purple crushed velvet attached to a couple of pieces of elastic strings in front of my face trying to determine which were the leg holes and which way the triangular piece of velvet was to point. Let me stop right here and say, I am not a small person. I have creases and folds large enough to hide a small child in. Anyway, here I am doing my darndest to surprise my future husband and hope he laughs at the joke as it was intended and not run out screaming into the night. After eying the slingshot type contraption I surmise the slim point of the triangular purple crushed velvet points south. Right leg in. Left leg in. Thumbs looped under the elastic strings on each side. All of a sudden my thumbs slip and release the elastic strings holding the piece of triangular purple crushed velvet and like a rubber band pops me all around the midsection. I scream and fall back on my bed and I swear my life flashed right before my eyes. It was not pretty. After the initial sting went away I lay there, took some deep breathes, pictured what I must have looked like to the dogs and then got tickled. Okay, this joke may just work as long as I do not let go of the elastic strings. They must gently be released. Then panic struck. It seems the elastic waist string got wedged into one of my many crevices and folds around my midsection and soon became tighter than Dick’s hat band (for those of you not old enough to have heard the phrase “Dick’s hat band” don’t let your mind run rampant.) I can’t visually see the elastic strings and I couldn’t get my fingers in between me and the strings. Now I’m starting to panic. I mean, really panic. I’m squirming around trying to reach everywhere where a thong (not footwear) would be located and the more I squirm the tighter the strings become. By this time Abby and Bond are on the bed and decide I need their help. Bryan Clancy and Polly each have their head resting on the edge of the bed wondering how this beluga whale entangled in fishing net got beached on their master’s bed. Two dogs jumping on my head and chest and two onlookers. I’m sure I’m going to die right here and the police are going to find me cut in half by a purple crushed velvet silver sequined undergarment that should only be worn by women under 35 with a size 2 body. Crime scene pictures will not be necessary because the image of me in a thong (not footwear) will be forever etched in the detective’s mind. Years of psychiatric counseling will be necessary to treat their post traumatic stress disorder. I even image those of you reading this will be permanently scarred also. If only I wouldn’t have made fun of the lady at Walgreen’s that started all of this. If only I wouldn’t have come up with brilliant idea to play a joke on my future husband on our wedding night. I am just so thankful the phone rang and woke me up. Merry Christmas everyone.
Posted on: Sun, 21 Dec 2014 22:39:01 +0000
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