Friday, December 3, 2010

Classic Briana - The Parking Lot Incident

(Originally occurred 28 July 2010)

I arrived just a little bit late for work today.  Here's why...

All the way in to work, I could tell the passenger-side door wasn't fully closed because of the horrendous cacophony inside the truck cab when the door isn't latched - sounds like running up the engines on a fighter jet.  When I parked, I decided I'd get all my bags out of the passenger side, thus affording me the opportunity to slam that door shut properly so the ride home wouldn't have the taste and texture of a flight line.  I dutifully hit the unlock button (I lock the doors when driving down Old Pearsall road - bad element there, as evidenced by last week's news story of the dum-dum in that area who pulled a knife on a cop and was shot and killed for his efforts).  I then walked around to the passenger side, opened the door, grabbed my Big Betty Bag O' Shit, lunch bag (the high-end Target plastic bag variety) and coffee mug and locked the door...only to realize I'd forgotten to put up the dash shade.  Mama does NOT like to get in a hot car at the end of the day so I fumbled with the damned shade, hoping I could place it under the visors while standing outside the passenger side door.  This was not pretty - I won't describe my contortions.  Suffice it to say, it was a no-go.  So, I put down all my crap, slammed the door (thus achieving the desired noise-reduction) and started walking around to the driver's side. 

Now, there's this annoying little dwarf woman (sorry, not PC, but very descriptive) who loves to pull up right next to my truck while I'm standing there with the door open...even if there's a space on the other side of my truck.  We seem to arrive every morning at about the same time and she does this EVERY morning.  I deliberately park next to an empty space on the driver's side so I can get out comfortably without feeling like I'm packed into a ride at Disneyland.  This morning, while I was walking around to my driver's side, she drove up and stopped...waiting.  It was a standoff.  After a few seconds, I gave her my best stink-eye and I think she got the message because she backed the hell up and took another spot (closer to the building I might add.  Is the woman OCD??).

Having solved THAT little problem, I proceeded to my driver's side door.  If you've been reading carefully, you know what happened next...

Oh, yes, I DID lock myself out of my truck.  Now, I had a dilemma: do I ask the Dwarf - who I just probably offended with my nasty glare - to borrow her cell to call The Husband and ask him to bring me his truck key?  Probably not.  Saving grace!  Another woman pulled up two spaces over.  I ran over and asked to borrow Martha's cell (I later learned her name...she got to witness the whole debacle and has seen me at my ugliest).  She handed me the phone and I started to dial only to realize something very important.

But first, a little tidbit of information about me...

Keys annoy me.  Key RINGS are my own little special place in Hell - I despise them.  About a week ago, I took my truck key off my key ring.  It's so much easier to carry around in a pocket or small purse, you know?  But I digress.  When I got home one afternoon, I casually threw my truck key into my Big Betty Bag O' Shit...where it got lost.  I had to pick up The Teenage Daughter at the airport last Friday night and I was in a hurry so I took the truck key off The Husband's key ring.  Never gave it back to him. 

Are you picking up what I'm putting down here?  Smellin' what I'm stepping in?  You betcha...BOTH keys were in my Big Betty Bag O' Shit which was sitting conveniently on the passenger seat - just inches from me - in my LOCKED TRUCK.

Ding!  A lightbulb went on over my head:

The little sliding window in the back of the truck hasn't latched properly in the 4 years I've been with my husband.  I could open that window and get into the truck that way.  Right?  I handed the phone back to Martha and walked around to the back of the truck.  And promptly discovered the next in my series of problems.  Since retirement, I've put on a few pounds mostly in the posterior region.  I was pretty sure my big ass wasn't going to fit through that tiny window.

Briefly, I again considered the Dwarf.  She'd be able to get in there no problem.  As annoyed as I was at that point, I fantasized for just a second about shoving her little ass in there.  But I then remembered that I'm a nice person and nice people don't molest little people.

Resolutely, I climbed up onto the truck bed cover - I can't describe the noise it made as I tip-toed across it.  Let's just say, it wasn't flattering and I'm ashamed to admit that I was offended by an inanimate object.  Moving along...

I opened the window and easily managed to insert myself to my hips.  Please feel free to imagine the visual here:  On my knees with my butt up in the air, half of me inside the truck, shirt hanging down for all the world to see the color of my bra.  Thankfully, I was able to reach my purse on the passenger seat - I'd like to take this brief opportunity to thank my Dad for my Neanderthal arms.  Now for the fun part: extricating myself from the window.  Mind you, my pants were a little too roomy in the waist area this morning so I'd rolled the waistband down once.  This came back to bite me in the ass - pun intended - because, as I tried to remove myself from the truck, my pants pulled down even further and my thong underthang was on glaring display.  To add to this stunning, train-wreck-can't-look-away debacle, as I backed out my shirt got caught on the bottom of the window opening and rode up OVER my bra to my neck.  Thus, I was for a very brief moment this morning, clad from my neck to my butt only in my bra and panties out in the parking lot.

Now...looking back at my clothing option yesterday, I can only say ThankYouBabyJesus that it happened today instead!

(Yesterday I was wearing a skirt)

1 comment:

  1. Have you ever noticed that little dwarf lady carries three purses? Unless this is a different dwarf you are talking about.