Just saying
Just because you’ve seen my underwear doesn’t mean that I am the slightest bit obligated to find out your name, talk to you or give you my phone number.
File this one under “things that sound dirty but aren’t.” 😉
To explain, I just washed the car. Like, washed, dried, vacuumed, Armor-alled, cleaned the carpets and washed the windows. The car is like, sparkling and shit. And it kills me that I have to park it under a fucking tree here at Slumlord Central, where it will be covered in pollen just in time for me to sneeze through the morning commute. In any event, my car was so dirty that the car wash only managed to smear the pollen around and make a lovely paste out of it, so I had to re-wash it again by hand.
But back to what I was saying, I know that I shouldn’t wear skirts to wash the vehicle. But when you own like 40 denim skirts and can’t wear a blessed one of them during the workweek, you want to justify owning a mini Old Navy in your bedroom. Anyway, between the car wash area and the park where I went to finish the job, I couldn’t believe the stares and the people who thought that seeing my ass hanging out of the car was an invitation to talk to me. Now, granted, me emerging from the backseat with a handful of glass cleaning wipes and me getting tangled up in my seatbelt was precious and all, but come on, did the guy have to stop his car to continue watching me? Lawd. I just lurrve having witnesses when I go all ass-over-teacups. Good thing I wore cute underwear!
On iTunes: Jane Siberry, “Lavender’s Blue”
May 9th, 2005 at 6:58 PM
The view of your glorious arse should have more than bought his silent reverence…not trash talk. What an insolent bastard. I tell you! hee