Last night our septic tank alarm went off indicating that yet another hearty, fibrous year was had by all in our household. Grossed out? Don’t worry, this post isn’t about our shit tank. BUT… it turns out the septic alarm may just have saved my life (and my marriage!)
So, as I was sayin’, the alarm went off in the middle of the night. I woke in a panic. I thought it was the fire alarm going off.
OUR HOUSE IS ON FIRE!!!! Wake the husband!!! Grab the 3 Beasts!!! Round up the fur balls!!! Grab the photo albums (Does anyone even do albums anymore? Grab the iPhones, I guess!)!!!
These are probably the things most people would think about if their house was burning down. But not I! The narcissist in me surfaced. The only thing I was thinkin’ was: “OMG… A hot firefighter is going to come to my rescue, and I’m wearing f-ing granny underwear!!!”
That’s right! You heard me! I not only own granny underwear… I wear granny underwear. And I f-ing LOVE them!!! After my c-sections, I couldn’t handle low-riders rubbing against my scars. So I invested in ONE pair of big-honking, rotten-cotton panties. And I am totally ashamed to say… I went back for more! Pink ones. Blue ones. Black ones. White ones. Ones with little flowers… so cute. Polkadots. Stripes. You name it. I’ve got ’em! And to think, all these years I’ve been shoving a lace banana string up my ass! Well, no more I say! NO MORE!
That is until the septic alarm went off! So there I was… a damsel in distress. Waiting to be rescued by my 50 Shades of Clooney… And I’m wearing granny underwear. And, to make matters worse, I also haven’t shaved in… well, let’s just say, I’m sporting a bit of Playoff season scruff!
But, alas, it was not meant to be. My house was unfortunetely not on fire! There will be no sweaty, hot, sculpted, ripped firefighter to my rescue. But let me tell you, I will not take such frivolous risks again. Oh no, I am prepared. I am ready. I am hot! I’m gonna fight fire with fire!
From now on, I will shave. I will even paint on my eyebrows before bedtime. But I have decided I just love my grannies’ too damn much to stop wearing them. So, instead, I’ll seduce my 50 Shades of Clooney with a special message just for him:
So, you see, it’s a win-win situation. Our septic alarm went off… I dreamed a dream… And now my Big J will benefit from a newly plucked wife, and I’m fully prepared to be whisked off into the sunset should my house hopefully ever burn down.
Cheers, Red Whino
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