Date story
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3 Aug 2008, 12:24
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Journals
A story to brighten your day from earlier this year(if you live in Spain, you likely need no more literal brightening thanks to day after day of 100+ weather, but please enjoy anyway)
I accept a date with a long time friend of mine and we arrange for 8pm pick up on Friday nite. I go jogging with a girlfriend and arrive sweaty and disheveled at my house at 7:00. 7:15 the doorbell rings and there is my date. Early and apologetic.
Somewhat flustered, I tell him to make himself at home while I shower and change. I do my thing and pull on my FAVORITE pair of jeans — some Sevens that I was
gloriously excited to fit into after losing weight. They felt a bit snug, but I figured that was due to their recent wash and like all jeans, they would loosen up with wear. Ready to go in an impressive 20 minutes, I proceed out the door and to his truck on the curb.
It was one of those very tall trucks where you need to use the hand rail to pull yourself into the cab. Being an independent woman, I haul myself up by the little “your driving is freaking me out” handle and into the seat while simultaneously hearing a R I I I I PPPPPP. Cringing, I realize that that sound just might be my jeans deciding to re-accommodate my sudden movement. Thinking that if its not too bad, I’d rather ignore it for the time being. I reach down to feel the damage and to my shock find that the jeans have split from seam to seam. Too short to even become a pair of daisy dukes!
Yes, one of my high points in life.
I decide to let my friend date know that I need to change jeans and pull my sweater down to cover my now indecent derriere as I scuttle into the house to change. Thank God for Spain gentlemen because he only uses the story to tease me mercilessly about how shamelessly forward I am in my flirting tactics.
I'm telling you this not to brag or have anyone congratulate me about my abilities: after all, they're not really mine. Deja vu ?
I accept a date with a long time friend of mine and we arrange for 8pm pick up on Friday nite. I go jogging with a girlfriend and arrive sweaty and disheveled at my house at 7:00. 7:15 the doorbell rings and there is my date. Early and apologetic.
Somewhat flustered, I tell him to make himself at home while I shower and change. I do my thing and pull on my FAVORITE pair of jeans — some Sevens that I was
gloriously excited to fit into after losing weight. They felt a bit snug, but I figured that was due to their recent wash and like all jeans, they would loosen up with wear. Ready to go in an impressive 20 minutes, I proceed out the door and to his truck on the curb.It was one of those very tall trucks where you need to use the hand rail to pull yourself into the cab. Being an independent woman, I haul myself up by the little “your driving is freaking me out” handle and into the seat while simultaneously hearing a R I I I I PPPPPP. Cringing, I realize that that sound just might be my jeans deciding to re-accommodate my sudden movement. Thinking that if its not too bad, I’d rather ignore it for the time being. I reach down to feel the damage and to my shock find that the jeans have split from seam to seam. Too short to even become a pair of daisy dukes!
Yes, one of my high points in life.
I decide to let my friend date know that I need to change jeans and pull my sweater down to cover my now indecent derriere as I scuttle into the house to change. Thank God for Spain gentlemen because he only uses the story to tease me mercilessly about how shamelessly forward I am in my flirting tactics.
I'm telling you this not to brag or have anyone congratulate me about my abilities: after all, they're not really mine. Deja vu ?
i read
i puke
sence of taste maaan! and style!:D this is the important:P
must be funny from the view of your date when u pulled down your sweater and totterd into the house ;P