So cop leaves for work, and I was running late - showered, dried off, got mostly dressed and went potty. It’s a trusted zone, so don’t hover – plopped down, saw my electric toothbrush within reach, and figured I’d multi-task and brush teeth to save time. Heaped Crest Gel–Cinnamon Rush on, hit the button and whirrrrrr – oops, it flung the red blob smack in the financial district of my panties. First trying to pinky it out, then standing up to waddle to sink, really smooshed it, but got out what I could. Oh well, in a hurry, so out the door…On hour work commute, I felt a little warm and tingling downstairs and caught myself fidgeting in my seat. Get to work, grab equipment and have to drive to Fresno, CA – 2 ½ hours away. Around Modesto, I’m really feeling something baking and hot near the baby oven. Against the angels’ wishes, I leaned back in the seat and jammed my right hand down my jeans – just to see if my maybe my panties were scrunched or sitting funny – even fanned some cool air down the mineshaft, but all appeared perfect in Panty-ville.
Few miles later, something smells good – like a bakery, like pastry, like CINNAMON! Jesus, it’s my fingers on the steering wheel – that freakin’ toothpaste is why I’m squirming like McGwire in front of Congress. Pull over next exit, find bathroom, created cinnamon paper trying to wipe clean, but what to do with panties? Not tossing and certainly not going without. Got it! Turn them inside out – ugh, so Ohio State skank-ish of me. Back on road.
Made it to Madera before I really had to do something about this now fire in my front window. Burning and waddling to convenience store potty (which is filthy, tiny, stinky, and wizz-drenched), I now get a fistful of toilet paper soaked in the sink – have to get some cold water on this bush fire. Lock door – whew… but look down to see this giant red stripe in my white panties. Not exactly the Red Stripe I was hoping for in my day. Not-wearable, so take off, rinse out, then go to dry myself off – no paper towels? As God is my witness, I've never felt more trashy in my life as I actually kicked a leg up half-naked on the sink and had to use an air hands-dryer to funnel hot air to my already scorched lava-labia in a disgusting, rarely cleaned Sip ‘n Pump bathroom…Wet panties fisted in hand, I leave. Thought it might be a good idea to maybe dry them out. No close cars, so at 75 mph, I rolled down my window, hooked them on my index finger, sloooowly eased them out to the window and TTHHWWOOOOP – gone like a David Blaine magic trick… Red-faced and watching my red-striped panties fly in the rear view mirror was not part of the plan. Later I called my “girl doctor” because still irritated. Something about perhaps upsetting the pH level in my southern playpen, so today in about a half an hour, you’ll find me in the stirrups getting my Cinnabox checked out most certainly smelling like a pack of Big Red.
Karyn
1 comment:
omg - lol
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