Blow Out

So last night, Anne and I went shopping for a cute new top for me since super special people were coming to work today. We found something suitable in both its pinkness and its casualness and all was well. We left the store deep in conversation and life was good.

Somehow or another we got onto the subject that every girl loves to talk about. The penis. Conveniently enough, there was also lingerie in my car, so I'm thinking this helped get us onto said subject. Because, you know, the lingerie was a main topic of conversation for a while because it is difficult to fold. And difficult to situate in tissue paper. It winds up looking bunched up and stupid, as opposed to cute and sweet. And no, the lingerie was not for me. It's for my dear friend who is getting married in two weeks. But let it be known that if she doesn't like it, then I'm SO keeping it for myself. I don't CARE that I have no one to impress with it, I LIKE IT. Who says I can't lay around by myself in sexy lingerie? Who? Who?

So anyway, back to the subject at hand. The penis. Anne is so wonderful and sweet and innocent and pure and young. Her knowledge of the penis is limited and you know, I feel obligated to impart my wisdom. Granted, my carnal knowlege is REALLY limited and she didn't ask anything, but I felt compelled to share anyway. And now that I'm writing this, I'm thinking the title I chose for this post is taking on A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT MEANING.

So I was trying to explain to Anne that there is A LOT that goes on between kissing and sex. See, it seems that in her mind, you go straight from the kissing to the sexing. And I was like, "Dude! There are like BASES. And nudity options."

So we were driving along and I was yelling about the scariness of the penis and then BAM! My right tire blew. On the interstate. I immediately pulled over just in time to see my hubcap go flying to the left into oncoming traffic and getting tossed around like a frisbee. Seriously, I have no idea how it didn't hit anybody or hurt any cars. So I did the only logical thing and called my best friend. Who is a male. Our conversation went as follows:

Cora: "I'm in trouble"
Best Guy Friend: "What happened?"
Cora: "I'm stranded on 75."
Best Guy Friend: "Are you serious?"
Cora: "Yes. My tire blew. What do I do?"
BGF: "Well, I can come get you. Or you could use your Cingular Roadside Assitance. Or you could change it yourself..."
Cora: (cutting him off) "You know that in this situation, you're supposed to come save me, right?"
BGF: "I will come save you. I just have to finish drying your laundry first."

Yeah, he was doing my laundry. And I interrupted him to come change my tire on the side of the interstate at 10 pm. No, I don't deserve his friendship.

All went well when BGF arrived. He put on his manly face and set to changing my tire. Then all went to pot when the cop arrived. He did NOTHING. In fact, I'm not even sure he knew how to change a tire. I guess you don't need to know that when you have a badge and twirly lights and a motorcycle. But seriously, if you can't help, THEN GO AWAY. And to make matters worse, the one time he did bend down by the tire to help, another cop came by and freaked out when he saw the bike and not the cop, so he STOPPED HIS CAR AND BACKED IT UP. ON. THE. INTERESTATE. And I don't think I even need to tell you that it caused an accident. A three car accident. And let me tell you, that lady in the smashed up Caddy was NOT PLEASED.

So last night, I single-handedly educated Anne on the woes of the penis, ruined BGF's khakis with grease stains from my tire, and caused a car accident. Every night should be that awesome!