No, Dirty Girls, I did not pick up a stranger who got to see my panties… it was much more ‘rom com’ than that. It started out innocently enough. I woke up this morning, showered, got dressed. To be exact, I was wearing a black g-string… not a thong.. a string, one of those white Gap spaghetti string tank tops with the shelf bra built in, my silver/gray cargo pants, and a gray wrap sweater to keep me warm since everyone insists on air conditioning. Not that it matters, but I was wearing my l.a.m.b. silver flip flops. I ate breakfast with Sister and big and little B. I was not ready for Sister to leave, but big B was ready for little B to hit the road.

I’m going to Sister’s tomorrow, so it wasn’t going to be a sad goodbye at the airport. The only reason we weren’t flying together is because she had miles on American and I’m a Virgin snob, so I’m flying Virgin. I wonder if it’s sacrilegious to join the mile-high club on ‘Virgin’ airlines… anyway…

Driving Sister to the airport was uneventful… until we hit the airport, literally the first stop which was NOT American, and little B did not want to wait. When Sister shrieked I thought there was a wasp in the car… until I smelled that oh-too-familliar odor. You would think that a 10 pound dog who had peed less than an hour  ago, wouldn’t have much to give, but little B let the flood gates open. He peed all over Sister’s pants, somehow it got up to her sweatshirt and down to her Ugg boots! I mean, it was if more liquid came out of him than could have possibly been in him. He’s too dang small! But there it was… a piss pool all over Sister. And her bag was packed to the brim… and by brim I mean her clothes were at the bottom and all of my books and work paraphernalia that I need for my trip but wouldn’t have taken unless it all fit in her bag, was piled on the top… snuggly.

To have her unpack all of my crap to get to a pair of pants and a warm shirt, would have been time costly and re-packing hell. So instead I did what any good sister would do who wears the same size as her little sis. I took off my cargo pants and my sweater and gave them to her. She changed in the car, and then handed me her pee pants to put on…

Uh…. I don’t think so! Those stinky low riders were saturated. There was no way in heck I was putting those anywhere but the washing machine, the dryer (not the pants Sister, I line dried those) and then my suitcase to bring out to her tomorrow.

So there I was, in the car, ready for my long drive home… in a black g-string and and tiny Gap shirt. Driving skills were of the utmost importance now, because getting pulled over would be VERY BAD! And you never really notice all of the trucks and high SUVs, until the people driving them are looking over and down at you and you’re not wearing any clothes.

Then there was the walk from the car to my door. Why are my neighbors NEVER out on their driveways, until I pull up in front of my house naked… almost. I mean I may as well have been to the 11-year-old boy who lives next door and was playing football with his red-neck uncle- heck yeah, I’m calling him a redneck! The guy parked on the grass across the street. Does he know what the HOA is in this development?! Don’t park on the friggin’ grass! There’s a parking lot for guests 300 footsteps away. Walk a little! It’ll do your beer gut some good.

Well, I figured, the front of my g-string looked like a bikini bottom, so I took my green Coach suede carrier bag, and swung it around to cover my butt cheeks. Everyone had to have thought it was a bikini. Who drives around in their underwear?

Me.

©2011