just say no to crack.

picture this: it's a lovely 90 degree day last weekend and dell and i had been out yard-sale-ing. we had borrowed my neighbor's pickup so that we could use it and the suburban to haul home a bunch of furniture we picked up. the suburban had all the windows rolled up and was stuffed to the gills with cushions and a whole mess of other carp - i couldn't have added a kid if even i had a wild hair and wanted to. the sub is parked across the street from my house and we have just finished unloading the pickup. while d goes to return it to the neighbor, i cross the street and hop into my car. as soon as the door clicked it hit me---my door handle is broken and i have to roll down my winder to open it from the outside---shit. left the keys in the garage, can't roll down the window. did i mention the cushions? and the closed windows? oy. i start to pound on the window trying to get d's attention as he's walking to the pickup - nope, can't hear me. still picturing, stay with me? after sitting there for a couple of minutes debating on whether or not i really wanted dale to come back and find me a prisoner of my own stupidity - being held captive by my car and 2 tons of cushiony material, i decided i'll rescue myself, dammit. i popped the rear window with a switch on the dash (thank God i got THAT fixed awhile back) and army-crawled across the top of the cushions, scraping my back along the headliner of the car while big booty mountain switched on the occasional reading light along the way. by the time i got to the window i was all sweaty, my hair was absolutely everywhere and my sans-a-belts had scooched down my hips far enough to show butt-crack. had anyone been standing there when i popped out, i imagine ace ventura fighting his way out of the elephant's ( rhino?) ass would have come to mind. sweet sweet freedom. now, do i tell dale of my mortifying adventure while he was chatting up the neighbor or do i keep it all to myself.

myself, it is.