Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Oh, THAT girl... episode 3

I've decided to include my THAT girl stories in my book. They'll be inserted randomly throughout as little snippets that might explain why it is that I'm still single. Because let's face it... it's going to take an almost astronomically rare type of man to willingly walk in and sweep this (*gestures to self) off her feet.

I went in town to do laundry last week. I no longer have a washer and dryer here at home, and I honestly can't imagine that the floor in the kitchen of this house (which is where the laundry hookups are) would even be able to bear the weight, so it's probably a good thing I don't. Anyway, laundry tends to pile up with a quickness. I was way overdue to get some laundry done, as is often the case, and I filled up my ridiculous Chevy Cobalt (more stories on that at a later date) and trekked in town to the super huge mega load laundromat.

The place I like to go to is the old local Scrub Pub. They got rid of the bar (which is a damn shame, I'd say) but they have these massive 6 load machines that I love. I didn't grab all my laundry, just the mainstays and all the socks and underwear I dared to dig for. It was nice only using two of the six-ers instead of my usual four.

Now here comes the good part. I just so happened to be wearing my favorite jeans (that do awesome things for my butt, or so I've been told). And my favorite bra. And, as I do every day, underwear. And I really wanted to wash those things. Like, right then. I remembered that I had a running skirt in my car from some day weeks back (yes, I meant weeks) when I was planning to go work out.


I proceeded to do what any savvy gal in my position would do. I grabbed the running skirt and headed to the 'mat bathroom. "No you didn't." Oh yes I did. I got mahself nekkid and stripped out of my pants and my skivvies and slipped into my running skirt commando. Nobody in the laundromat seemed to care, though, as I strode out of the bathroom in a new outfit, holding the old one in my arms. Maybe it's because it was an amazing idea.

I'm just gonna go with that.

It didn't stop there. After I had finished folding my clothes and tucking them neat and tidy into my baskets in an awe-inspiring fashion - having used less space than when everything was dripping over the sides like when I arrived - I realized it was Free Pie Wednesday at Village Inn. Hell yeah I deserved some pie!

And off I went. My girls swinging free and a breeze between my knees. A commando on a recon mission. My target? Pie. (Okay, so going commando doesn't make me a commando. I am a Marine, though. I think that gets me honorary commando status. )

That's it, really. Laundromat nudity and hippie pie eating. Maybe it's all normal. Hey, that's cool. Normal is... alright. I guess. But if I had to bet, I'd say this was just another instance where THAT girl struck again.

Mmmm... pie...


"What do you mean I have to buy a drink?
The sign says FREE pie!"