So I had issues with Dr. Pepper but apparently that’s not the only thing that generally disagrees with me.
Let me tell you a story, or two.
Three days ago my two roomies and I were walking aimlessly by the fenced- in apartment pool when for some reason an irresistible compulsion to climb the fence came over me and I could not ignore it. It was completely illogical; we had a key, which would have been a much easier way to get in the pool, but who wants easy when you can have fun? I just needed to see if I could climb it (foreshadowing: I couldn’t).
So I begin the ascent and discover my imminent success or failure depends on a skillful leg throw over maneuver.
I’ll let this picture do the talking of how well that went:
it bit me!
Both leg and swimsuit got caught on the fence. But considering the swimsuit is far less replaceable, it’s a good thing that one came out unscathed. Thanks be to Kylie for kind of .. um.. unhooking me.
Sadly, however, this is not the first time I’ve been unhooked.
The last time happened out about a year ago.
This time the fence climbing was out of necessity. My sister and I got locked in to our high school track. And since my high school has become increasingly ghetto since I left, there was barbed wire everywhere, except for one small patch of chain link. I climbed it but lingered at the top because I was being a wussy-pants who did not want to jump. Well, the uneven chain link was poking my butt in a rather uncomfortable manner, so I took the plunge. Except mid jump I got caught mid-air, my feet dangling just inches above the ground.
The chain link, had, uh, caught my pants. And yes, I was dangling by my pants that I could hear slowly ripping, as I hung there helplessly, getting the biggest wedgie of my life.
This would be the result of that fence encounter:
Those are my shorts. Those are my hands going through the giant holes in my shorts.
Thanks be to Becki Lyn, for, yes, definitely unhooking me.
