I couldn't get comfortable in the movie theater seat. I crossed and uncrossed my legs. I sat with one leg tucked under me. I even dared to almost cuddle with my friend sitting next to me.
The movie ended and as I stood up, I made a gross discovery: the rock-like thing in my cute metallic sandals was a piece of gum. Someone else's gum. From a long time ago. It was grey.
Worse yet, it was smeared along the entire side of my shoe, as well as the bottom of it so that as I walked, one foot stuck to the floor. I tell my friends about it in the lobby...they try not to gag, but they laugh because they're thankful it's happening to me and not them.
It gets worse.
I'm driving home and realize I'm sticking to my car's seat. During the "tuck the leg under me" during the movie, I'd worked the grey gum into the right butt cheek of my jeans...and now I was transferring it to my car.
I used a plastic butter knife this morning to scrape off the gum. Audrey watched, of course, and made me feel like an ass.
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Foretelling of the time when you wake up and you're suddenly not cool in your hip daughter's eyes. Then hang on. The coolness does come back, if only in shades. :)
ReplyDeleteDon't worry - no one noticed the gum on your drawers when we left the theater! :o)
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