cymbidia
unrepentant pervert
- Joined
- Mar 8, 2001
- Posts
- 8,786
As a flute melody plays, cym returns to her home in northern California one Wednesday night...
Oh wait.
I'm getting this thread confused with Death of a Salesman.
Sorry.
So there i was at the gym with my kids. The big girl is a competitive gymnast and spends a bunch of hours a week there. The little boy has been going to and from the gym all his life as we ferry his sister around. Now he, too, is taking gymnastics lessons.
The big girl sees it as work.
The little boy sees it as incredible fun.
On Wednesday evenings, the big girl has a class from 6:05pm until 7:50pm and the little boy has a class from 7:05pm until 7:50pm. I bring a book and a bottle of water.
Two Wednesdays ago, as they got out of their classes, both kids let me know that they were going to totally DIE of hunger right then and there if i didn't get them something to eat *immediately*. Since i don't want dead kids, i hustled them into the car and we drove to... yes!... McDonald's, located convienently down the street from the gym.
Both kids ordered chicken nuggets adult meals, and supersized them. When we paid and moved up to the food window, i was surprised to see that everything was ready and waiting for us. There was a line of cars behind us and a quick, steep ramp down into the street in front of us.
I took the bags of food and shoved them at the big girl, sitting in the seat next to me. Then came a tray of drinks, one slot still empty. I shoved that, too, at the big girl, muttering irritably about having no place to go to sort the food and drinks out.
I drove down the ramp and into the street, then back down the street and into the gym parking lot. All i wanted was a patch of level ground on which to idle a moment to sort the food, cokes, and kids out.
I forgot about the speed bumps.
I hit one.
Those three BIG cokes went flying.
One splashed all over my front dashboard.
One spilled onto the big girl, who immediately began to scream.
One fell into the depths of the space at her feet.
A mad scramble ensued.
No coke was saved.
It was all soaking into my car. Well, that or dripping off my car. Or soaking into the big girl (who was now screaming at the little boy for laughing at her).
Muttering, grumbling, swearing, yelling: all of us. I had *nothing* in my car to clean any of it up with and the McDonald's people had shorted me on napkins. (Usually they spend several trees worth of wood to supply me and just me with many many more paper napkins than any reasonable person would need.)
WAY cranky and furious at nothing and no one (but pissed off anyway), i drove us all home.
When we got home, i lifted my purse from its place on the floor in the passenger foot area and realized immediately that it was way heavier than it should have been. Examining it more closely in the car lights, i saw that it was full of coke. All its pockets held coke. All its little special hidden pouches held coke. Coke had become one with my purse.
Swearing meanly, i carried it into my house and upended it into the sink.
Everything came washing out, including lots of chunks of McDonald's ice. Wallet. Change from the bottom. A zillion pens, including my so-special Literotica pen that i won in the unmask Gnufi contest last year. (OH! There it is!) Some rocks. Assorted wet papers. My checkbook. Stuff. Junk. Crap. Lint. Some breath mints. The speeding ticket i'd just gotten. And my phone.
I washed stuff. Rinsed it out. Spread it on towels to let it dry. Got out my leather cleaner for my purse. (It felt odd to use it on non-BDSM toys!) Went to bed.
To make a long story short, the coke killed my phone. Murdered it. There's nothing anyone can do to fix it. I have to buy a new one.
Sooooooo... (yes, i *have* had a point all along):
if i had your number(s), i don't have them anymore. I can't get into my phone's directory even once more to get the phone numbers from it cuz that phone is dead. Please send me your numbers again, if you would, and i'll put them into the new phone i'm getting tomorrow and i'll keep them safely some place else, too, in case of another occurance of sudden phone death syndrome.
Oh yeh. Anyone know what i can do about the three gallons of coke slowly, slowly, slowly drying into my cars' carpeting and upholstery?
Oh wait.
I'm getting this thread confused with Death of a Salesman.
Sorry.
So there i was at the gym with my kids. The big girl is a competitive gymnast and spends a bunch of hours a week there. The little boy has been going to and from the gym all his life as we ferry his sister around. Now he, too, is taking gymnastics lessons.
The big girl sees it as work.
The little boy sees it as incredible fun.
On Wednesday evenings, the big girl has a class from 6:05pm until 7:50pm and the little boy has a class from 7:05pm until 7:50pm. I bring a book and a bottle of water.
Two Wednesdays ago, as they got out of their classes, both kids let me know that they were going to totally DIE of hunger right then and there if i didn't get them something to eat *immediately*. Since i don't want dead kids, i hustled them into the car and we drove to... yes!... McDonald's, located convienently down the street from the gym.
Both kids ordered chicken nuggets adult meals, and supersized them. When we paid and moved up to the food window, i was surprised to see that everything was ready and waiting for us. There was a line of cars behind us and a quick, steep ramp down into the street in front of us.
I took the bags of food and shoved them at the big girl, sitting in the seat next to me. Then came a tray of drinks, one slot still empty. I shoved that, too, at the big girl, muttering irritably about having no place to go to sort the food and drinks out.
I drove down the ramp and into the street, then back down the street and into the gym parking lot. All i wanted was a patch of level ground on which to idle a moment to sort the food, cokes, and kids out.
I forgot about the speed bumps.
I hit one.
Those three BIG cokes went flying.
One splashed all over my front dashboard.
One spilled onto the big girl, who immediately began to scream.
One fell into the depths of the space at her feet.
A mad scramble ensued.
No coke was saved.
It was all soaking into my car. Well, that or dripping off my car. Or soaking into the big girl (who was now screaming at the little boy for laughing at her).
Muttering, grumbling, swearing, yelling: all of us. I had *nothing* in my car to clean any of it up with and the McDonald's people had shorted me on napkins. (Usually they spend several trees worth of wood to supply me and just me with many many more paper napkins than any reasonable person would need.)
WAY cranky and furious at nothing and no one (but pissed off anyway), i drove us all home.
When we got home, i lifted my purse from its place on the floor in the passenger foot area and realized immediately that it was way heavier than it should have been. Examining it more closely in the car lights, i saw that it was full of coke. All its pockets held coke. All its little special hidden pouches held coke. Coke had become one with my purse.
Swearing meanly, i carried it into my house and upended it into the sink.
Everything came washing out, including lots of chunks of McDonald's ice. Wallet. Change from the bottom. A zillion pens, including my so-special Literotica pen that i won in the unmask Gnufi contest last year. (OH! There it is!) Some rocks. Assorted wet papers. My checkbook. Stuff. Junk. Crap. Lint. Some breath mints. The speeding ticket i'd just gotten. And my phone.
I washed stuff. Rinsed it out. Spread it on towels to let it dry. Got out my leather cleaner for my purse. (It felt odd to use it on non-BDSM toys!) Went to bed.
To make a long story short, the coke killed my phone. Murdered it. There's nothing anyone can do to fix it. I have to buy a new one.
Sooooooo... (yes, i *have* had a point all along):
if i had your number(s), i don't have them anymore. I can't get into my phone's directory even once more to get the phone numbers from it cuz that phone is dead. Please send me your numbers again, if you would, and i'll put them into the new phone i'm getting tomorrow and i'll keep them safely some place else, too, in case of another occurance of sudden phone death syndrome.
Oh yeh. Anyone know what i can do about the three gallons of coke slowly, slowly, slowly drying into my cars' carpeting and upholstery?
) Neither one paid for this replacement phone. 
