Thursday, October 23, 2008

An unsolicited blogmercial

I am a slacker. I almost never pack my lunch and as a result am left to frequent one of the three or four restaurants in my industrial work neighborhood. Because this is Phoenix, more often than not, that means I eat some flavor of Mexican food almost every day. Only, here we don't call it "Mexican Food" we just call it "food".

Yesterday, true to form, I had brought no lunch and found myself at a local greasy spoon taqueria called "Filiberto's". There are about 123 places in the PHX called something-berto's, and they all serve moderately decent food for the most part. They're the sort of place you don't eat if you have a choice, but would murder Santa's elves for at 3am after a night of Corona & Patron shots. Or, you know, when you forget your lunch and your belly button is rubbing a hole in your back bone.

Anyhoodle, it was lunch time and I was starving and that chicken burrito was calling my name, so I eschewed my normally above reproach manners and rather than delicately cutting each bite, I tore into that burrito like a lion on the Serengeti happening upon a delicious dead zebra.

Now, anyone who has ever had the pleasure of my company at a meal know that my twins get hungry. Apparently yesterday they were hungry for burrito.

Now, that doesn't look to bad, right? Well get a load of this

That's right, it shot right past my mouth, down my chin, down between my creamy, heaving bosoms and INTO MY SHIRT. WTF? Who gets food INSIDE their shirt? Moi, that's who.

Not just a little either, a big, massive bright orange greasy stain

It kind of looks like a wiener. Like the ghost of Miss Manners squeezed out a big ol' mushroom stamp to teach me a lesson about not using silverware.

Tres classy.

Because I am prone to dropping things on the girls, I own very few white shirts. To make matters even BETTER I'm on a strict No New Clothing budget right now so it's not like I could do what I usually do and just buy a new shirt, change in a parking lot and get asked never to return to that store ever again. But also? I'm a little vain, so it's not like I wanted to sit in a stained, peppery shirt all day either.

Then, like a ray of light streaming down from the Heavens, my eyes happened upon an ad in Glamour for the Tide Pen. For the most part I tend to think things like that are snake oil, but that adorable Kelly Ripa looked so smug cleaning her central-casting-daughters pinafore, I thought, Why not? Sure, I'd have to brave Super Ghetto K-Mart. Sure, I haven't had a tetanus or rabies shot in a while. But I had rubber gloves in my trunk and close toed shoes, so why not be brave?

And I was, chickens! I was brave! I got my Tide Pen and headed back to my office to strip down and do laundry at my desk. Because that is what professional women do; they multi-task topless.

I took my shirt off, placed a folded paper towel behind it and followed the direction on the package. At first, not a damn thing happened. Then, slowly, the stain began to fade. I rubbed and blotted, rubbed and blotted and was rewarded with this

WILL YOU LOOK AT THAT? The stain is almost gone! I'll be damned. For the low, low price of $1.99, my shirt went from being garbage to salvageable. It's like a beautiful miracle of science.

So Miss Manners? Go Fuck Yourself. I'll eat my burrito and wear it too, because Tide Pen is the bestest thing EVAH.

PS - Dear Tide People, that will be $25,000 please. While I may be easy, I'm NEVER cheap.

7 little kittens say Meow:

Jane! said...

You can't be too big of a slob if you didn't already have one of those in your desk drawer! I'm on my third one. Bicycle grease is my biggest problem. But then I have very little mountainous matter between my chin and navel. Meaning little pieces of chocolate fall straight to my chair and I skwoosh them into the back of my pant legs... which makes it look like I sat in a rabbit pen. I *heart* stainsticks, too.

kwr221 said...

Oh, you're too funny. ANd I know EXACTLY what you're talking about. How, you ask?

Well, before I had the pleasure of your acquaintance, my girls were an unsupportable, pain in the neck, whopping 38H. Hah! Beat that!

Now, thanks to the miracles of modern science I am a downright perky, manageable, dare I say youthful 40C, well almost a C, they don't quite fill in where they're supposed to.

:::Sigh::: But I can't complain and besides the doctor says they're still "settling", whatever the F that means. Too much info? Sorry. I'll just add this - somehow between the time I went in for surgery and came out, my band size sprung up from a 38 to a 40. That's just not fair!

And, while I'm B-ing and moaning, instead of dropping food and other assorted essentials down my cleavage, it just drops straight onto my STOMACH, because *that now sticks out more that my chest.

I'm suspicious that my penchant for Halloween candy and french onion dip has a wee bit to do with it. That sucks.

blairspage said...

You are freaking hilarious!

So, have you had a personal experience at Seattle Children's or just heard good things about them? I'm still waiting on their call. In the meantime, I got a call back from St. Louis and that went well! I think we actually might go there for a consult because A) they are closer and B) they do the compression wraps! YEA!!!

Hugs - Tiffany

Lorrie Veasey said...

Gawddamn it Thystle. It's not enough that you have to write you have to go and post pictures of the lovely tatas? My only consolation is that I didn't REALLY read this post- I mostly just looked at the pictures. But not in a gayelle sort of way, mind you.

Lorrie Veasey said...

PS Kristin- I will wait for the pics on your blog too. Maybe instead of No Words Wednesdays we should have Tata Tuesdays?

Miss Thystle said...

TA-TA Tuesday? I'm SO IN!

PS. First you don't propose to me and then you don't look at my boobs in a gayelle way? I'm starting to wonder exactly what this relationship is based on.

Megan said...

I know I'm late to the party, but holy shit what a party it is!

I must say, your boobs are fabulous. And just like Lori, I couldn't help but stare!