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Ask a cop.

21 Jul

Have you ever wanted to sit down with a cop and ask a ton of questions without fear of getting arrested? Or laughed at?


Well, I do.

And I did. I grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down on my couch – not my car or heavy machinery – and fired away.

Go check out my questions to Officer Don at Don of All Trades!

Click here

Click here


What questions do you have for a cop? Do you cry to get out of tickets? Do you have an old prom date sitting in prison and need help to find out what happened? Don would totally do that for you. 


Ramrod Key.

8 Jul

Ok, I sorta feel bad.

1. My coffee machine isn’t working. My pre-vacation self didn’t bother to fix it before we left. Damn her.

2. I gloated on social media about being in the Keys. We all did. I blame the rum.

There is a family reunion held in the Florida Keys. It’s always over the 4th of July. This family reunion is a little different. The families that reunite do not share a last name. Most of us don’t live in the same state. It started out as a group of South Florida friends traveling to the Keys with their children to celebrate the 4th of July.

This is the 20th year.

The group knows too much about each other to be considered friends – we’re family. We have seen each other in our best swimsuits. We have seen each other with our worst hangovers. We’re never pretty. We are sunburnt, covered in bug bites and tipsy by lunch. Hey, a nip slip can happen to anyone. Some of us smell like coconut sunscreen. Some smell like dead fish. We all smell like rum. The house tiki bar never closes. No one talks about their problems they left behind. But we do know who is on team vodka, team tequila and team whiskey. The kitchen is always stocked with homemade food. The backyard is the Atlantic ocean, ready for anyone to hop in.

Or flip in

Scott uses the quickest route possible.

The family reunion is held 90 miles from Cuba.


Kate won’t smile for Cuba.

I lied. Key West is 90 miles from Cuba. Our home base is Ramrod Key, about 110 miles from Cuba. Ramrod Key is a sleepy, little fishing town. She wakes up when her once-a-year crew arrives.


AMERICA!! How much do you love us, T. Jefferson??

Of course, you can get closer than 90 miles to Cuba. I caught this handsome beast looking Cuba in the face. That’s right, I said AMERICA!!

Bull dolphin.

My big catch! A bull dolphin – also called mahi mahi.

I'm so proud of this thing.

We eat well in the Keys.

Fish taco, anyone?

Each dolphin was reeled in by a WOMAN with the men cheering them on.

We’re luckier than most to have a family like this. If it wasn’t for the company, pictures of palm trees and water on social media would be pretty boring.


2014: Ramrod Key crew boarded on the Loose Cannon.

I love these women.

Team Whiskey, Team Vodka, Team Tequila, and Team Whiskey. Until next year!

I trust you with my iPhone while I’m gone.

28 Jun

I will not be posting a Monday post next week.

I’ll be floating on a noodle off the Florida Keys with a cocktail in hand. Or I will be in a boat putting up the big fight against a trophy Mahi. The fishing reports are excellent.

I trust you guys to watch over my blog until I get back. Make yourself at home. Snoop around. Oh, here. These should keep you entertained – my iPhone pictures. Have fun!


I think Siri does autocorrects. She's a funny one.

I think Siri is behind the autocorrects. She’s a funny one.


Tina is on the short list.

Tina is on the short list.


The funniest thing about this picture is I was holding a treat because the dogs wouldn't smile for my picture. I put the treat away after I got my shot.

The funniest thing about this picture is I was holding a treat because the dogs wouldn’t smile for my picture. I put the treat away after I got my shot.


Oh, hey. How did that get there?

Oh, hey. How did that get there?


I don't live a glamorous life.

I don’t live a glamorous life.


This is a real thing.

This is a real camping thing.


How sweet. A Mother's Day card.

How sweet. A Mother’s Day card.


She knows her mother too well.

The fine print never lies.


That's funny. They printed it upside down!

That’s funny. They printed it upside down.


Ok! Ok! I'll stop the trash talk. Geez.

Ok! Ok! I’ll stop the trash talk. I start twitching when football season gets close.


Do I really have a wild look to me?

Do I really have a wild Indian look to me?


That adorable niece of mine.

That adorable niece of mine.


He's so cool.

He’s so cool.


Please invite me to your White Elephant Christmas party. Please.

Please invite me to your White Elephant Christmas party. Please.


Why take a car when you can take a lawn mower down city streets?

Why take a car when you can take a lawn mower down the ‘hood streets?


One of my biggest parenting decisions is to introduce Emma to her own iPod with text messaging.

One of my biggest parenting mistakes is giving Emma her own iPod with text messaging.


Sometimes Pinterest pins tell it the best.

Sometimes Pinterest tells it best.



Babies can sense danger.


Too old

I’m still too old for Bachelorette parties.


What would YOU do?

I mean, what would YOU do?



This is a fake post.

23 Jun

I had a real post ready today.

I spent the majority of my Sunday night writing and laughing in bed. Scott asked what I was writing about. I told him our upcoming vacation.

He said if I publicly post about our vacation, he would divorce me. Our house could get broken into if people knew we would be gone.

You guys, I’ve posted about upcoming vacations before – like every time we go.

You know nothing about this upcoming vacation. 

And I’m in no mood to hire a divorce attorney.

I’ll just write about my neighbors on vacation. 

The details

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. LOOK! SAME ART.


they pulled through

National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. LOOK! THE SHITTER’S FULL.


See Scott – everything is fine. Their houses were not robbed. I had their door handles connected to a hot iron. Joe Pesci might show up when the automatic Christmas lights go on.


Well, mommy’s prom date is in prison.

9 Jun

No joke.

I am not the type of blogger to call out people on my blog for their poor life decisions. I’m not a mean person. If I write about you that means you said or did something funny. You’re “blog worthy.” I like you. I want others to like you.

Or you could take me to high school prom then 4 years later, land yourself in prison for the next 40 years. That’ll get yourself a mention on the blog.

WHAT?! Isaac – what happened?!

No, seriously – what happened.

How did this jock -


turn into this criminal -


His mug shot. Even his eyes morphed into psycho. Please, don’t murder me.

The last time I saw Isaac was in high school. He went to one college and I went to another. Facebook wasn’t born yet.  We lost touch. I googled his name a few times. I searched Facebook once or twice to see how he was doing but I never found him.

"Isaac, where'd you go?"

“Isaac, where’d you go? Remember me?”

Then I found his mug shot.

And the charges against him.

And he won’t be out until 2043.

And oh my gosh, my kids are going to find out mommy’s prom date is in prison. Scott will use this against Emma and Kate’s prom dates. He’ll send the girls loaded with mace. Self-defense lessons will be in order. I’ll take pictures of my girls before prom and Scott will be in the mix of parents yelling, “just remember your mother’s prom date is still sitting in prison with another 20 years to go!” Thanks, Scott.

Girls, I’m sorry my bad boy prom choice has lasting effects. But so we’re clear – Isaac and I never dated. We were just friends.

Not running free now.

Oh, I bet you wish you were running free now.

And what gets you 40 years behind bars?

Aggravated assault, aggravated burglary, criminal threat and stalking according to the County Sheriff. Yeah, I emailed the Sheriff’s department and asked. Old prom dates have the right to know these kind of things. I couldn’t find anything in the newspaper archives. And I couldn’t find the public court records online.

Isaac and I will never cross paths again. I’ll never know what happened the day he got arrested. I can only assume aggravated assault with a 40 year prison sentence is a grey area for attempted murder. 

My last memory of Isaac is singing Dreams by the Cranberries as loud as we could in my car. Maybe finding out what happened to my old friend is one of my poor life decisions because I wish I never knew.


Have you ever found out something you wish you never knew? Do you know anyone in prison? Have you lost touch from anyone in high school and wondered what happened to them? It can’t be any worse than mine. 

We went to the pool.

5 Jun

Scott: What did you do with the kids today?

Me: We went to the pool. **

Scott: Oh! Must be nice. I’ll trade you.

Me: Are you serious?


** We went to the pool -

You get a text message from Christine: Meet us at the pool at 2:30.

This gives you 30 minutes to get up there or you risk losing a saved seat.

Ready, set, GO – Get the kids changed into suits. They will need help tying the straps around their neck. Change into your own swimsuit. Question your saggy boob status in the mirror. Throw your legs under the bath faucet and quickly shave any stubble. Check your armpits. Tell yourself not to raise your arms. Check bikini line. Change into the boy shorts style swimsuit because you’re due for a wax. Keeping your arms down is easy but there’s no hiding Sasquatch. Throw on a coverup. Question your saggy boob status with a coverup. Run downstairs. Make 3 to-go ice waters. Toss waters and snacks into the pool bag.

NOPE! Get your hands off the beer. This is solo parenting. A-game. Focus.

Find the kids’ flip flops. Find your own flip flops. Find your sunglasses. Make sure the kids still have their goggles in the swim bag. Make sure you have the pool key. Find your kid’s lifejacket. Grab 3 clean towels. Spray the kids down with sunscreen and don’t forget to rub some on their face, scalp and ears. Spray yourself down. Don’t forget to apply some on your face because wrinkles and saggy boobs. Load the kids into the car and take off.

Congratulations! You made it on time! Wave at Christine so she knows you’re here.

Damnit, you waved too high. Armpits! Get it together!

Sit in your saved seat in between Christine and Carmen.

Set up your spread. Get your towel and lay – Oh! There goes your kid running into the pool with no lifejacket on! Get her or pray she can touch! 

She can touch. Yell at your kid to get out and put a lifejacket on. Continue setting up your spread. Lay your towel out, set the kids’ towels at the foot of the chair. Find a dry spot to put your swim bag down. Take your coverup off. Do not look at anyone. Everyone is staring and judging your saggy boobs. Sit down and say hello.


You get nailed in the face by an 11-year-old boy with a squirt gun. Possibly fire hose. Wave him off, it’s fine. Take your sunglasses off and wipe them with your towel. You’re blinded by the brightness. Put your sunglasses back on and blink. Tell your friends you feel like Stevie Wonder. Your friends fake laugh at your lame joke. When your vision returns, check your body. You are looking for Sasquatch appearances. You’re good. Tell your friends you need a wax. Start talking about waxes but never look at your friends while you chat because you’re scanning the pool. Kid there. Kid there. Good. Ok, now you can look at your friends.

Christine says she can’t find her son.

Help Christine find her son. Stand up. Walk around. Where is her son? OH! Found him! Now where are your daughters? Scan. Found one. Where’s the other? Scan. You can’t find her. Look for a dead body on the bottom of the pool.


The bathroom. Yell at your friends you found her and you’ll be right back. Walk into the bathroom.

“Mommy I need help pulling my swimsuit up!”

Pull the wet swimsuit up. One leg. Other leg. Inch by inch. One leg. Other leg. The legs are complete. Now YANK. Force a wedgie up your kid by lifting her 3 feet into the air. Make sure she’s covered up on top. Tie the straps around her neck. Feel guilty for forcing a wedgie. Fix the wedgie. She runs off.

“Oh wait, you didn’t wash your hands!”


Meh, the chlorine will get it. Sit down by your friends again. The topic changed to who has the most redneck husband. Admit it’s your husband. Scan. Kid there. Kid there. Remind yourself that kids drown silently. You watched the YouTube video some newbie mom put on Facebook last week.

You feel a giant bug crawling out of your swimsuit top. It’s not a bug. It’s boob sweat rolling down your body. Saggy boob sweat. You and your friends move to the pool to cool off. You are immediately attacked by kids wanting to play. A parent in the pool trumps all pool toys. Play with your kids for a little bit then tell them to play on their own. The amount of pee in the pool starts to make you squirmish. Get back out of the pool and sit on your chair again. The chlorine and sun are slowly morphing your children into monsters. The drama goes to a whole new level.

“She won’t let me in her fort! I’m hungry! I don’t like these snacks you brought! I’m thirsty! He keeps squirting me! Hey, watch! I can dive into the shallow end! I can’t find my goggles! That kid took my raft and I don’t want him to play with it. Can I go to the park? Can we go home? No! I don’t want to go home! I think there’s poop in the water.”

You get a text message from your spouse: What’s for dinner?

Tell your friends that your husband wants to know what’s for dinner. Laugh.

“Tell him to pick up something on the way home.”

“Tell him he’s grilling frozen meat.”

Tell the kids it’s time to go. Put your coverup back on. You already feel better. Find the goggles. Find your towels. Pick up all the snack trash. Tell your kids to stop scratching each other’s faces off. Find their shoes. Send one kid back in the pool to get the shoe she just threw in the water. Look at the new moms with the toddlers in the baby pool. Question whether you miss those days or not. Tell your kids you’re leaving without them. The kids follow, kicking each other on the way out. Get in the car. Get nailed in the back of the head with a loaded water gun the kids saved. Tell them they are grounded for a year. Drive home.

Scott: What did you do with the kids today?

Me: We went to the pool.

Scott: Oh! Must be nice. I’ll trade you.

Me: Are you serious?



Freedom to dance in the rain.

26 May

Text message to Allison and Heather: You trust me with your kids?

Allison: I have complete trust in you.



Heather: Fun!!

Allison: Wait a minute. Is that Michael Jackson? Never mind you’re crazy.

Me: We’re getting honks.


Well, what am I supposed to do when the clouds open up and pour on the neighborhood kids playing on our slip and slide? Six bummed out kids stood in our garage with towels wrapped around them. They were staring at the sheets of rain. No – rain will not ruin Memorial Day weekend. This is Julie’s house. Boredom 3 days into summer? Never.

Throw the towels off, kids. I don’t see lightening. Just rain. Let’s have a dance party in the driveway.

I turned on my Bose speaker.

YEAH!!! Miss Julie that is a GREAT idea!

What do you want to hear? We need good dance music.

Do you still have your Michael Jackson music?

YES! I like where your head is, kid.

THRILLER!! I’ve seen the music video!

You have? Scary, huh?

I love it. Play Thriller! Remember when you were Michael Jackson for Halloween? My mom let me watch Thriller after that. Play Bad! Play Billie Jean! Play Beat It!

Should I break out the hat and jacket?

Yeah, we want the hat! The hat! I call jacket!

I ran inside and grabbed my black fedora and red leather jacket from my closet.

Who’s first?

Me! Me! No, me! Mom, let me!

Ok. Down kids. We’ll all take a turn to be MJ.

photo-26 copy

The rain continued to pour. Cars passed the house and honked. The kids waved.

Mom! All these cars are honking at us! Oh! Hi!!


A golf cart filled with kids drove by. They were headed home from the pool. The dad yelled,

WHAT?! Michael Jackson is back! WOOHOOO! BILLIE JEAN!

Was that a request? I turned the music up.

All these people love Michael Jackson, Miss Julie!

Oh, I know. Keep dancing, kids! Keep on. With the force don’t stop. Don’t stop till you get enough. Ow!


A car slammed to a stop in front of my house. One of the neighborhood moms stuck her head out of the window.

Jamie: What’s going on here?!

Me: Dance party in the rain! MJ showed up.

Jamie: I LOVE IT! Oh, I want in on this.

Jamie hopped out of her car and started dancing with a towel over her head.

Jamie: My kids aren’t even in town and here I am dancing to Michael Jackson with my kids’ friends! My kids are going to kill me. Let’s watch Julie moonwalk. Did you guys know that Miss Julie was Michael Jackson in another life?

Me: But no little boys. I can’t really do the moonwalk. I need fluffy socks and a waxed hardwood floor. I’ll try. We’ll all try. Ready. Go.

8 pairs of feet go backwards down my driveway.

Jamie: Ok kids. This was fun! I have frozen food in the car. See ya!

Jamie left. The rain lifted and the sun came out. The jacket and hat were dropped. The kids ran off to play on the slip and slide again.

Miss Julie, this was the best day ever! My favorite part was dancing in the rain! I’m so happy you danced with us! That was CRAZY!


This post is dedicated to the men and women who died while serving in the country’s armed forces. There’s no better way to show our freedom than dancing in the summer rain. Thank you.


Without this ring.

1 May


A lost wedding ring.

The old wives say bad fortune is in your future. You might as well be looking for your happy marriage at the bottom of that murky lake.

Superstitious or not, losing a ring will set off panic. Never in your life have you prayed for time to go backwards. For just a few seconds, God. Please. A tiny bit. It was right. here.

And then it’s gone.

That split second can happen all kinds of ways. I polled my Facebook friends. Hey, I do more than stalk on Facebook. I got the party started with this question -

“For those of you (or your spouse) that have lost your wedding ring – how did you lose it?”
  • It fell off my husband’s finger into the ocean. It was the first day of our honeymoon.
  • My husband gave the ring to our girls to play with. Been gone ever since.
  • He lost it in training and his 2nd one got lost while he was deployed.
  • It’s at the bottom of Table Rock Lake. It fell off while cleaning catfish.
  • My husband lost his in the snow, it slid right off. I lost mine after my 2-year-old took it. It was never seen again.
  • I have a nervous tick and I play with it on my finger. I spent hours looking for it in a parking lot.
  • My husband lost another man’s wedding ring. We were at a triathlon and my husband offered to hold a friend’s ring while he did the swim event. My husband went to pull in the buoys out of the water and the ring slipped into the water.
  • Husband lost his in the bottom of a river while canoeing, trying to save another couple from distress. 2nd one in Applebee’s bathroom. I will have to ask about 3rd and 4th rings.
  • Softball field, never found it.
  • Public restroom. Unfortunately, no one turned it in.
  • He threw it in the trash after washing his hands at work.
  • Thought it was lost forever but found it in the laundry basket.
  • Cat knocked it down the sink drain.
  • Workout bag had a hole in the pocket.
  • Divorce
  • Somewhere in our old house. I would love to blame my kids, for that I’m convinced a toddler misplaced it.
  • In the pasture behind our house.
  • Spinning it on the table at “Shot Stop” in Aggieville. It fell between a crack in the wall and the floor. Next time they tear down that bar, I’m going to go get it.
  • Stuck under my bathroom scale.
  • I throw it off in my sleep, but I always find it.
  • Fell out of my pocket while golfing. Luckily, I was with my father-in-law.
  • A beach in Mexico. I was getting a massage and left it in the hut on the counter.
  • Solution: Get the wedding ring tattooed on. (Brilliant, Serena. Brilliant.)


The responses to my research were immediate. I was expecting a handful of men to respond. Instead, my Facebook page turned into a confession box with a line out the door. Men and women. What surprised me the most was how lighthearted everyone felt about their missing symbol of infinite love. There were no sad stories. No said they felt bad. They were sharing a war stories. They survived and could tell the tale.

These people have found the secret – marriage isn’t a sealed deal until one of you lose a wedding ring. Only then you are golden. Oh, and that crap about your ring finger having a vein in it leading straight to your heart is a lie.

Scott lost his ring. We’re in.

You won’t find Scott’s response above. Scott couldn’t respond to my Facebook poll because Scott has no clue where he lost his ring. He left the house with his wedding ring on. He crawled into bed without his wedding ring on. He swore he didn’t take it off. It’s gone. It has been missing for a few weeks now. Stop it, ladies. He’s taken. But you can look at his cute butt.

We will replace the original ring. Maybe we’ll let our daughters help pick out a new ring. We’re not in a rush. We don’t need a ring to prove to the world that we’re married. That’s what a marriage certificate is for.

Oh, wait. Yeah, we lost that like 8 years ago.


Where did you go?

Goodbye, wedding ring.

Have you or your spouse ever lost a wedding ring? Did you find it or is it lost forever? Have you ever lost anything with sentimental value?

Listen To Your Mother.

28 Apr

Listen To Your Mother is a live show where women (and sometimes men) come together to read their stories about motherhood. More than 32 cities host these shows in honor of Mother’s Day. In February, I got an email congratulating me for earning a spot to try out in Kansas City.

I did not make the cut to be in the show.

This is because I have two voices.

My writing voice is what you are reading. It’s the voice in my head. It’s confident. I have 506 posts on this blog. That’s getting up in front of a growing audience 506 times. This audience – you – doesn’t make me nervous. To be honest, I’m sitting with you on my couch in my PJs, sipping a glass of wine. We’re all friends here.

It’s my speaking voice that screws everything up.

Three people. All it took were three pairs of judging eyes to send my speaking voice back to my car muttering “you’re such a screwup.” My body went haywire in the tryout room. My face was trembling. Hand sweat. Boob sweat. Everything was sweating. I couldn’t hear anything but the thud-thud, thud-thud of my heart echoing in my ears. I knew a rejection email was floating in the air, following me home.

I wrote this for an audience. I need the audience that doesn’t scare me to listen.


Click here for more information on Listen To Your Mother.


Don’t talk to a stranger.

Hi, my name is Julie!

Did you hear that? That’s me going out of my box.

And I’m sorta freaking out standing here in front of you. Can you hear my heart beating too?

Hi, my name Julie – those are the words I kept repeating in my head while I stood behind a group of parents at the school pick up. I had to give myself a mental pep talk to speak those words.

Just say it. Just say it. You can say it.

Your kids go to the same school.

You live in the same neighborhood.

The worst that could happen is that they won’t say hi back because they won’t hear your mouse voice.

Clear your throat.

What if they think ‘Oh, there’s that mom with the open windowed house. I wonder if she knows her fighting kids keep the neighborhood awake. I mean – surely they can’t hear that.

Wait, what am I supposed to talk about if they do say hi back?

You need friends. You’re sinking. SPEAK UP.

Ugh, who cares. Just say it. Do it.

Hi, my name is Julie.

One of the moms returned my smile. “Hi, I’m Heather,” she said. “Did you hear about that big tornado in Oklahoma?”

I later found out Heather and the group of parents wondered if the shy mom would ever talk to them.

It was one of the hardest moments of my life. I should have done it years ago.

Don’t talk to a stranger.

Your parents told you not to do it. “Don’t tell anyone your name or where you live. Don’t talk. Run!” they said. “They’re all out to get you.”

I never stopped listening to my parents. I never stopped telling myself don’t talk to strangers. It’s easy when you’re born an introvert. One or two good friends is all I’ve ever needed.

Then I had a child.

I went from introvert to loner. A baby gave me a free pass to hide out in my home. I was happy. I didn’t need friends. My daughter became my new little friend. And sleep was my best friend. I would take Emma on walks around the neighborhood. I would take her to the park. I found courage to join a playdate group. The hot topic with the moms was always our kids. It was not my intention of comparing my kid to their kids but I did. I came home disappointed with myself as a mother. I didn’t puree my own baby food and now I fed my kid cancer from a baby food jar. Great. As our kids grew to school age, the playdates faded and our friendships faded as well.

I screwed up. My kids were in school and I had no friends. I wasn’t happy anymore. I didn’t have one person to talk to about life. I needed people. Friends. Other parents to compare notes to. I needed someone to lean on and tell me I’m fine. Is anyone else terrified for the day when we drop our kids off at middle school? Are my shorts too short or have I been a mom for too long? How do I keep the spark going in a marriage? How do I talk to my girls about periods? Should I keep my hair short or let it grow?

Emma and Kate are growing up. Playdates turned into “mom, I’m going down the street to play. Bye!” My daughters are making their own friends. They taught themselves how to talk to a stranger. And I am doing the same.

I’m Julie and it was nice to meet you.

Nipples and a flash.

10 Mar

I’m mortified. Mortified.

I’m curled up in a ball with my hands over my face re-living what happened last night. And it’s all because of a pair of nipples.

Men, get over the nipples. Seriously.

But damn, I’m a good wife.

Two key pieces of information you need to know to understand how this all unraveled.

  1. Sunday morning – I went to my cousin’s baby shower. My aunt requested I turn on my camera phone flash because she wanted more light on the baby shower cake. I forgot to turn the flash back to my regular “off” position.
  2. Sunday evening – I went to a friend’s house to help address save-the-dates. I was just finishing up when I said I had to get dinner for my family at the nearby fast food restaurant. Amber told me not to go to that particular place. “Don’t feed your children food from there. Trust me.” Not wanting to feed my children roach legs, I opted for the fast food place closer to my house.

I drove to my side of town. It was dark. I blasted the music. I had the sunroof open. I was high on life.

I pull up to the fast food place and order. I pull up to the window.

That will be $10.45

Here you go. (I hand her my card and she faced the cash register)

Whoa. What? NIPPLES. Why doesn’t she have a bra on? The nipples are at her belly button. Scott needs to see this. Seriously. I’m like the best wife ever. He’s lucky I’m in a good mood. He would appreciate a good nipple picture, even if they do brush the cash drawer at her waist. Where’s my phone…

I pick up my phone and click the side button to mute the camera noise.

I double check to make sure the employee is preoccupied. I hold the phone up towards the window.



Oh God!! Oh God!!! Flash! NO! OH NO! THE FLASH!

I drop the phone into my lap. My camera captures my face.

Worst selfie ever.

Worst selfie ever.

Did you just try to take a picture of me?

I stare at my lap. I do not make eye contact with her.

Uh. What. I, uh. I don’t know what happened. My finger must of hit. Um, I don’t know.

You tried to take a picture of me. Here’s your food.

Um, uh. Thanks.

My tires squeal out of the parking lot. My car goes flying out into the street towards our house. I come to a stop light. I call Scott.

Hi mommy.

Let me talk to your dad.

He wants to know what you want.

I need to talk to him.

He said to tell me.

I can’t. Put daddy on the phone.

Daddy! Mommy won’t tell me what she needs!


Scott. I’m going straight to hell.

What happened.

I went through the drive thru and the employee didn’t have a bra on. Scott. Her nipples. Like BING! And they were hanging low. Hitting the cash drawer. I tried to take a picture for you and MY FLASH GOES OFF.

(laughing) Wait, her nipples were hanging out of her shirt?

No wait. Scott. It’s worse. Then she asked me if I tried to take a picture of her! It was so obvious what I was doing. The damn flash went off in her face. I’m terrible. Oh my gosh, it’s hot in here.

(laughing) ARE YOU SERIOUS?

(laughing) Scott. Help me. I can’t drive. I’m so embarrassed. She knows my name and credit card number. I’m on a hit list.

Fast food places use a 3rd party to keep that information. You’re not on a hit list.

I’m number one on the list to hell. I just wanted to show you some nipples. That’s it. Nipples. That weren’t mine.

Did you keep your eyes on the food? Did she EVER walk away to get your food. This is important.

I don’t know. I think she had the food. I just keep seeing her nipples in my head. And then my flash. I’m blinded! OH MY GOD. MY FLASH.

I can’t send you anywhere to get food!

I’m almost home. I need to text my friends when I get home. Bye.

They're all going to hell with me.

They’re all going to hell with me. See you on the other side.


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