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He Looks Pretty Good To Me.

08 Dec

Anyone with kids knows there is so much to do to get ready for Santa.

And honestly…

If you are single and doing this it is nothing short of madness.

 

So I get a break to go shopping

Skipping I go to the car…

I am so excited…

I can hear the credit card getting rev’d up…

Like the Talladega

Only no cars…

Or Skoal…

And mostly women with lattes

 

I hit the outlet mall…

Has there ever been such an angelic sound.

I shop til I drop…

Gap outlet…

Off the 5th

Ann Taylor…

I only stop because I have had 2 warning calls from Visa in the past 47 minutes…

I guess that is a good indication it is time to go home.

 

I can easily find my car amid the sea of SUV’s…

Because mine is sporting reindeer ears

And a red nose.

Yes it is…

Gay as it sounds.

Kelly's car

EVERYONE in Denver has an SUV…

Everyone…

It’s like a state law or something…

You cross the state line…

And here you go…

Your SUV…

And your cute lab or golden retriever.

And you must take him EVERYWHERE you go.

 

Hmm…

What is that light…

It is never a good thing when any light in the car comes on.

It is a picture of squiggly lines and a smiley face…

How cute.

Uh Oh.

 

That means low tires.

How in the hell do you get low tires out of that?

 

I only know what this silly icon means because I pulled over and read the manual.

 

 

I don’t know about your other ladies…

But I never look at my tires…

Never…

I like to live in the little bubble world that is mine…

Where tires never go flat…

And I believe that in the end my prince will come.

He is just caught in traffic — for like a REALLY long time.

 

But now this thing is solid and seems to be getting brighter…

Is that possible?

 

So…I am looking for a place to get air.

You know there is like one place in Denver that is full service…

Only one.

And I was too far away.

 

So I pull over to a TOTAL self service (surprised they do not make you drill the actual oil)…

It’s $1.00…

For air?

Air??

I am really pissed that I have to pay for air.

 

Does not seem right?

I mean you didn’t used to have to pay for air…

Like in the 1800’s when you wagon wheels didn’t need it.

 

So I am squatting on the ground trying to figure out which tire is low…

Because they all kind of look the same to me.

This is not a quick process.

And the air cord thingy requires super human strength to stretch to the back tires…

And God help you if you get some slack in the line…

Because…

That baby will snap you back in to another time zone.

 

Now flat out on the ground…

Cold hard concrete chilling my buns…

Going from tire to tire…

Showing a new crowd of holiday shoppers my hind end with each tire…

Because they may be Not Your Daughter’s Jeans but…

It is your mama’s ass…

And that is…

Just not pretty.

 

So it’s about 7 minutes and I swear to God this final tire is just not inflating…

At a dollar a pop, it takes me 3.00 to figure out…

you must depress the little lever to get air to dispense.

How ‘bout some directions here people!

 

FINALLY…

 

I am wrapping this whole little escapade up…

Wiping the dirt off my butt…

Grease off my hands…

And thinking about my friends…

With husbands…

And wanting to smack them…

For trashing these men…

The ones who don’t take the trash in a timely manner…

The ones who leave shaving cream on the sink.

And the very ones who check AND put air in the tires.

 

The ones who make it possible for the wives to always have perfect manicures and…

And not show their ass at the public fillin’ station…

And I’m thinking…

Their husbands?

look pretty good to me.

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1 Comment

Posted by on December 8, 2010 in Uncategorized

 

One response to “He Looks Pretty Good To Me.

  1. Shannon

    January 22, 2011 at 12:38 pm

    For the record, my husband has NEVER put air in my tires, never thought about putting air in my tires or even checking if they needed air. I love him, do not get me wrong, but his air checking skills are not there. God (and I) love him and all, but as I drove in Thursday night from 2 hellaciously (not a word, I’m sure) long days in Philly as it was raining and I had to go potty like a 3 year old, what did I find in the garage? What did I find in my parking space? My space, right next to the entrance to access that bathroom? His parents car. ARGH! Reverse car, parallel park under basketball hoop, find suitcase, bag, walk through grass, get rained on, finally in the house. Let’s just say he should be glad that I had the decency to not wake him and ask him what he was thinking. 🙂

     

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