My SECOND Inappropriate Public Attire Story This Month.

June 29, 2009 at 22:20 1 comment

Das Piper: I am bored, wanna go for a drive? Maybe get some ice cream?

Pocketbuddha: Ok, But I am not changing.

We drive up and down one of the two main streets, through all of the construction and other such nonsense, enjoying the cool wind of the car’s air conditioner, the giant milkshake (since when was a ‘large’ an entire freaking liter of milkshake?) numbing the palm of my hand.

Pocketbuddha: Are you sure you’re not embarrassed to be driving around with me wearing a too-short tunic dress with sweatpants and flip-flops like one of those Walmart sweat pant people?

Das Piper: Yep, and to prove it, we’re going to Walmart, I need blank CD’s.

Pocketbuddha: That’s nice, I am waiting in the car.

Das Piper: No your not. I am taking the keys in with me, you won’t have any air.

Pocketbuddha: I am not even wearing a bra! If I go in there looking like this we’ll definitely run into someone we know.

Das Piper: Everyone we know is out camping this weekend. . . and when was the last time we saw anyone we knew in this Walmart? It’s the south end.

Fine, we go in. . . I try not to fidget and keep telling myself that no one is staring at me. . . and that there are in fact no less than six other people in similarly unacceptable attire lurking the aisles. We get the blank CD’s, which took Das Piper eight million years to pick out just to spite me, we pay for them and . . . . oh thank god we can leave. . . And just as we’re stepping over the threshold, just when I have the safety of the car in my sightes I here someone say hello behind us.

I cringe and try to keep walking, praying to every Deity I could think of that the voice was talking to someone else. But Das Piper’s voice stopped me.

Das Piper: Oh Hey so and so!

I stopped, I turned, I saw my partner greeting an acquaintance of ours from the local pub with a smile and evil glint in his eye.

Pocketbuddha: I fucking told you so.

And even though the acquaintance in question is known more for his dirty cover-alls and questionable body odor than anything to do with fashion, I took the keys from Das Piper’s hand and walked as fast as I could to the car where I proceeded to pout.

Would it really have been so hard for me to change my clothes before leaving? I now have TWO pairs of perfectly comfortable maternity pants to wear. . . not to mention a number of nice cool skirts and dresses to choose from. . . I have absolutely no excuse!


Entry filed under: Uncategorized.

Micheal Jackson Is Dead GIST #18 of 365

1 Comment Add your own

  • 1. Schmutzie  |  July 5, 2009 at 01:38

    It’s true. You never run into people you know until you decide to make a quick run to the store with tomato sauce on your stomach.


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What is a Pocket Buddha?

The pocket Buddha is a talisman, whether the pocket is in our mind or our jeans, the pocket Buddha is there to add a touch of Zen to our lives. He smiles from his dark penny and used tissue filled abode and reminds us simultaneously to go with the flow of our lives and to keep our goals, hopes and dreams ahead of us. At least one moment everyday, the satisfaction of a project completed, the taste of a meal we managed to make without burning, the extraordinary patience we somehow managed to show in the most frustrating of times, the pocket Buddha throws us a pocket-lint sized piece of nirvana, and for that I am very grateful.

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