First off, I just now realized the typo in last post's title. Chold? What is that?
What a long strange trip this past week was. Al got back from camp, intact, albeit a little weary for the wear but all in all she had a blast. Heard the "Coconut" song the entire 2 hour drive home. You'd have to hear it that many times to TRULY experience it. Thanks to the counselor who taught it to them.
Before I begin this ditty, I want to let everyone reading know that I am NOT a complete and utter nitwit. AFTER reading this ditty, you will almost instantly think otherwise, but I repeat, I am NOT a nitwit. I have a college degree, dammit.
The whole week Al was gone, I insisted to LP that I was picking her up in the convertible. He insisted the gas mileage was going to be just as bad as the minivan's. Yeah, and monkeys might fly out of my butt. He loves his baby. I asked him if there was a speeding truck headed towards me and the Saab at the same time, which would he pick? He didn't answer.
And he still hasn't.
I was INSISTING on the convertible. I was picking Al up along with a friend whose daughter is one of Al's bestest friends. They are conjoined at the hip, truly. They met in preschool and have been pals ever since.
I am obviously trying to avoid this story and what it will reveal.
We started down at 7 a.m. and we had a lot to talk about. My friend, we'll call her Myspace because her Myspace has like a gajillion friends and she is very popular and I am not. She is also gorgeous, but that does not have anything to do with this story.
Myspace's daughter is on the same soccer team as Al's and there is a lot of drama going on, so we were yapping and yapping. Myspace is also single, and was just in the middle of telling me about some new boy she was being set up with, when all of a sudden, not unlike a movie scene...KAJUNG KAJUNG KAJUNG the car starts jerking and sputtering and making weird noises I had never heard before...and I am freaking out...."WHAT IS GOING ON WITH THIS CAR? OOH NO! WHAT THE....."
Myspace replies, "Um, I think we are running out of gas."
Seriously? No. I am a responsible 34-year-old woman with three kids. No WAY would I ever....run...out...of....gas.
I pulled my husband's almost brand new spiffy sports car onto the shoulder of the highway as FAR as I could. And then I lost it.
"What?!! I ran out of GAS? What idiot does that? 16 year old girls do that. I do not do that! What the hell?????"
Myspace had to get out of the car because she was laughing so hard she almost soiled herself. I was still in shock. Because guess what? We were in the middle of NOWHERE.
If you've ever been in Illinois, you would know when I mean NOWHERE I mean banjos were not even close to being heard in the distance. No freaking where. Several miles of walking in either direction.
I call the motor assistance card LP has in the glove compartment, and after being on hold for what seemed an eternity (which in reality was most likely 30 seconds) I soon learned it was only for TIRE assistance.
Just as I am hanging up, Myspace notices a black car several hundred yards in front of us on the shoulder, backing up slowly. My mind is spinning.
"What if they're crazy old men in there? What if they want us to do naughty things for gas? Oh my gosh what if they tell my husband???"
Myspace says as the car gets closer, "Well, it might be worth it, it's a Jaguar."
As they get closer, and we read the license plates, we realize they are people we know.
Yes, someone was watching out for me that day. My guardian angel works overtime, I realize that. Hope s/he gets paid double.
After offering up my firstborn and any other things to NOT tell LP about this incident, they helped me get to a gas station, get a gallon of gas and put it into the Saab. yes, I left LP's baby on the highway, by ITSELF for a time span I physically get ill about thinking how long it truly was. And LP knowing.
We got back into the car, and headed down the highway again, all the while I'm thinking only about the next gas station I needed to get to to fill that sucker up all the way. So of course, I almost missed the exit to turn.
Needless to say, I'm never allowed to drive down there again.
Once I got home, I thought of my options. I could just never bring it up, and LP would none be the wiser.
Yeah, right, until Myspace and I get together at the numerous drinking events we partake in and start yapping it up!
So I calmly told LP what I'd done. He was pretty accepting of the fact, and didn't get mad or even roll his eyes.
Strangely though, whenever I go out to the garage, the Saab is locked up and I can never find the keys. Coincidence? I think not.
Next time I am going to just embrace my Minivan status and never again be seduced by such an inticing little harlot of a sports car.