Its a hard knock life!

Wednesday, June 08, 2005

Scanty Panties- Midshift drift

We’ve all been there, the day before your laundry day. The drawers are getting a mite low. You reach for that last item…way, way …..way back….Damnit I thought I had one more…. I do! One single solitary lone pair of underwear left….PHEW. If you are in any way comparable to me you save the worst for last when it comes to your unmentionables. Here’s the rough schedule: Day 1 –5 The ‘new ones’, Day 6- 10 the ‘favorites’, Day 10-16 the ‘im too lazy to do laundry’, Day 17-20 ‘shat, I really need to get laundry soap’ Day 21-25 the ‘its these or full liberation’. As you can see, by day 21-25 diversity becomes paltry, thus you seize what you are able to find. On this particular day, I would have to say it was verging on day 25…the last pair of the ‘totally hate my life’ kinda foundations! There is a REASON they loiter until Day 25. Apparently there was a sense of urgency as I geared up for work and I seemingly bypassed the reasons for avoidance. I landed myself spank blob in the hub of a very uninviting pair of panties, say it with me, panties - my lanta I hate that word. Through out the subsequent hours of exertion at the business establishment for which I labor, this garment of the under clothing persuasion replenished my memory as to why, in fact I had snubbed them throughout the preceding days of the month. They have a nagging tendency to ascend the fold, and take residence in the dimly lit stadiums of the body. By midshift this torment was verging on epidemic. This had become anything but a ‘ride out’ kind of situation, desperate measures had to be taken if I was to successfully complete any amount of toil. I very nonchalantly knelt down by the rack of candy bars, allowing me to maintain full view of the sales floor, while remaining concealed from any possible interferences, I had a goal after all, I could not be interrupted this premature. As I crouched down to terminate my distress, I reach for the toggle of my agony. Mid-plunge, I hear ‘Coral, what on earth are you doing’. At this point I am so startled, let alone embarrassed that my knees (keeping in mind I am in a full on crouch position, pretending to rearrange chocolate bars) begin to recoil and I can feel it, as if I am in slow motion, the speed of plummet increases as I begin my rapid decent onto my ass, toppling backwards into the cash register, the candy airborne in all directions. Now comes the explaining myself….’Coral, I asked you what you were doing!?’ How is one to answer? “well, you see, I have a schedule and today just happens to be day 25, do you understand what day TWENTY FIVE MEANS…well let me explain, you see, I have a schedule…’

Saturday, June 04, 2005

Baby got back...Boy got rod!

In the whirlwind of a bad break up and other such related incidents a certain young lady (namely moi) had lost sight of what was really important, besides my looks of course! I am referring to the habitual unforeseen hilarity of life! It was only a scant moment ago that a certain confrontation by a cold metal rod and some all too friendly neighbors reminded me of the utter delicacy and sheer comedy, which seems to follow me on this expedition of existence as a ‘twenty something’.

Let me embark on the verbal rebirth of these proceedings, travel with me as we sojourn through the events surrounding…. the ASS of Coral, yes I said ass. Apparently mine gets me noticed…far to frequently then one would desire, and this notice is usually for erroneous reasons. It has become an issue of great concern. It all began the other day at work, allow me to reminisce, I deal with a lot of interesting people in my line of work, even I furnish the impression of normality in relation. At the moment of ‘impact’ I was helping a certain chap, it appeared he was going camping. My job is to permit his transition of shopping to camping to be as swift and smooth as possible. As I turn my back to him and proceed to extract his change from the register, I find myself in a very compromising position. I feel my face flush, my knees weaken, my body starting to feel strangely jittery, and I feel something brush my inner thigh. As I try to turn around and face the gentleman to give him his change, I realize that I cannot. First, I am, as I said feeling very unsettled, Second, I have recently come to realize how this ‘compromising’ position has been attained. The man had ostensibly projected his fishing rod into my inner thigh, and upon suggested retrieval it became lodged between my legs and proceeded in an upward motion, to the peak of no return, there I was, standing my back to the customer, a fishing rod stuck between my legs, and sure enough, lodged in an all to fragile region. One must be VERY creative to not only regain their composure, as they have to face the costumer, they must also reach for emergency survival 101, how to unlodge a fishing rod from your ass in a timely and discrete fashion, as not to do any damage to your delicates, whilst trying to not expire of sheer embracement, oh the horror. The kind man apologized for getting ‘fresh’ and gingerly went on his way. I was curious to know what kinda things i could catch if i bought a rod.