See, as I've been unpacking, I have realized what a whacko I really am. Because I opened a box this morning, stared at its contents, and wondered WTF I was thinking when I packed it. The contents included:
A pair of Grinch boxers. Mine, not Slayer's.
A variety of leotards from my dancing days.
A green and purple neon silk scarf.
A teeny string bikini.
A purple gi top from my martial arts days.
A pair of sleep shorts with Dopey the dwarf on them.
And somehow, I thought these things deserved a box of their own. Someone took a special trip to carry this box from our old bedroom out to the truck, and another someone carried it from the truck to our new bedroom. And all for a bunch of stuff that I won't possibly wear with the exception of the shorts which I might drag out on laundry day.
Okay, I lied. There's one really fabulously horrid 80s leotard, which I shall keep in the event that I need a quick costume. Because I also own leggings. Give me a crimper and some scrunchies and I've got a killer 80s chick costume. Give me some makeup too, and I could be a zombie 80s chick.
Of course, that means that I really need to get kicking with the trainer, because right now, I could squeeze into that leotard, but I'd kinda look like an overstuffed sausage. And somehow, an 80s style zombie sausage is not exactly the look I'm going for.
And then there's the bikini. I've had twins. What on EARTH do I need a bikini for, except to prove to disbelieving people that I once fit into the damned thing? Or maybe in a pinch, if someone broke into my house, I could use it as a garrote. THAT would be humiliating. The would-be-burglar goes to the gates of heaven and has to admit that he got himself suffocated by a bikini-wielding zombie sausage.
It seems to me that there's a plot for a really funny book buried in this entry...
23 comments:
My wife wonders when you find time to think this stuff up so early in the morning.
I still have a bikini in the back of the drawer...so hard to let go...
But what a perfect time to come across those Grinch boxers!
I totally understand what you're saying...just this morning, I found a pair of jeans I bought, maybe, 4 years ago from American Eagle. I thought, "Man, those are hip." And so, I tried them on and they fit perfectly - size 34, looking all svelte. Oh, wait...actually, this really doesn't go along with what you're saying. huh.
okay, time for the truth. (because you can't have the truth messing up such a great comment, right?)
After we had kids, I gained a lot of weight. So, today - frustrated that all my jeans made me look like some early-90's rapper (Snow, maybe, who btw has what might be the greatest/worst album title in the history of album titles....I'll give you a free book or something if you know that. Or you can have my respect, which is worth a lot more, really...okay /digression)
So, I pull out the man equivalent of skinny jeans. And they fit. If it wouldn't make me feel really womanish, I would've giggled with joy or something.
I never throw anything away. I think there's a whole trilogy hiding in my loft.
Are you some kind of bikini-wearing-martial-arts-dancing superhero by day?
What else can explain the disparity between the swimwear/dancewear/gi wear and the Dopey/Grinchy nightwear?
Maybe you packed that box intending to hide it from yourself and open it later and it would be like a time capsule of your life! Which it was!
I still have the same swimsuit I got when I was thirteen. The really sad thing is that I occasionally have to stuff myself into it, because it's the only swimsuit I own. I really hate swimming. And I refuse to buy a new swimsuit just to wear it twice a decade. At least it's not a bikini.
I think there's more than one plot buried in here!
Jamie: Uh... I write them in advance. Most of the time. My secret is out.
Adrienne: Isn't it? If only it wasn't so bleeping cold, I might actually wear them!
Bryan: So you didn't giggle with joy? What is the man equivalent of that? Did you punch yourself in the shoulder or something?
Cate: I would probably be the same way, except that I don't have an attic.
Christy: Great. Now you gave away my secret identity. If I suddenly disappear, it will be because the supervillains found me.
KC: You hate swimming? How is that possible? If I could live underwater, I would so do it.
PJ: Good point. But I need FEWER plot ideas, not more. I have too many as it is!
Fitting into a bikini looks like too much work. Better to marry a man who likes a thick woman and enjoy my ice cream. Also I like having a full-figured ass : )
I mostly just grunt and punch other people.
I have a bikini stuffed away in a drawer, too. Thank goodness for tankinis!
One good thing about your visitors is that you WILL get things done. I can really get the house uncluttered if we have lots of guests, but somehow I can't do it on a regular basis!
Carrie, I might have the crimper. Which my then-fifth-grade daughter bought from somebody who was throwing it out. Then again, I may not, because I'm VERY GOOD at throwing things out. Pack rats, beware!
I, too, keep EVERYTHING. Every decade or so I go through the boxes o'crap in my garage (like 6 humongo boxes) and re-live my youth - one item at a time.
My rule is, if I can't remember what the hell the 'thing' is that I kept, out it goes. To date, I've thrown exactly one thing away.
I have memorabelia problems.
This makes me wonder what I have hanging around in MY closet. I need some good ideas for another book . . .
This could be scary. Very scary. No bikinis, I'm certain, so not possibly as scary as your little adventure.
A book about a bikini wielding zombie sausage? I'd totally read it.
I've been reading a lot today, wink wink. Sorry for missing the fun.
You have way too much time on your hands... have some more twins...
My whole house is like that box, only it's not all clothing, but it is all a strange mish-mash of things.
Le Sigh.
Carrie-
Hilarious! Hmm...I think I have a box or maybe even two that would fit the same description as the one you just went through. YIKES!
And not only that, but I live in the house I grew up in. We moved here when I was seven, and I know there is a box stuck waaaaaayyyyyy in the back of a storage closet upstairs that has been there since the move.
Oooooh, the possibilities are endless...
LMAO!
Thanks Carrie. I needed to read something like this today.
When I need to get away from the normal world I know I can come here and laugh my...errr...bums off...
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