22 March 2012

Secret Pants

Those Hooters Girls' smiles actually mean, "check out that effin'
mess we have to clean up later."  CREDIT.
I’ve always had a soft spot for kids.  In fact, when I originally started college I was pretty sure I wanted to be a geography teacher.  While that may have changed, my adoration for little ones hasn’t.  Except for when they’re coloring all over the seats of my booths of course.

One of the things that I’ve come to appreciate about children is their total lack of censorship.  I love that kids will think a thought and then just let that thought come stumbling out of their mouths with reckless abandon.  Frankly that shit is amusing.

Take, for example, a gentleman of probably no more than five sitting with the rest of his family for dinner.  Handing out crayons and coloring sheets as I introduced myself, the boy stared at me intently rather than ripping excitedly into the crayon box like his siblings.  As I moved from introductions to drink orders, the boy finally broke his silence.

“So what are we gonna have for dri…”

“You’re not wearing any pants.”

He said it loud and without hesitation.  His mother instantly turned red as his dad shot him an I-can’t-believe-that-came-out-of-your-mouth look.  Meanwhile I was quickly formulating a response.  That’s the thing with kids; you have to be able fire back just as swiftly as they do.

“Well actually I’m just wearing really short pants.  See I think my dryer might be broken because when I put them in they were really much longer.  But I had to wear something!”

And while he seemed totally satisfied with this response I continued, “So to make up for it I did this instead.  Check it out!”

With that I reached down, pulled on my nylons and stretched them a little from my leg.

“See?  I decided to wear secret pants today!”

His eyes lit up like I had just told him that he’d won a free year of candy.  And a pony.  A pony made of candy.

So next time you’re at Hooters, don’t think of those horrible tan things as Nylons.  Think of them as secret pants.  They’re WAY more fun that way.

21 March 2012

Contact is Made

Oh hey.  Remember me.  Yes, there is an author to this blog and – contrary to what you may have heard, believe, or totally made up in your own mind – she does still exist.  I realize that at this point it might be somewhat unbelievable.  But here I am nonetheless.

Life has been busy to put it mildly.  There was the usual.  Work.  School.  Gym.  More work, school, gym.  Then there were several weekend classes.   There was even a middle of the night stay in the emergency room for an ailment that is still a mystery.  I’m still waiting on the bill from that adventure.

Don’t worry, friends.  I’m fine.  Fine enough to find time to blog amidst two of the most horrible weeks of the semester.  Spring break is looming a week and half away.  Its distant presence is the only thing keeping me sane.

So here I am proclaiming my existence and promising to write a REAL post tomorrow.  It’s in writing.  It shall be.

In the meantime, check out a blog I am doing for a semester project.  It’s pretty new as of yet, but if you’ve ever had any interest in my life as a fitness nut you should check it out.  Just remember, a professor reads that shit so it’s more…civilized.  For example, that blog would not have included shit in the last sentence.  It’s a lot less fun.


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