Posted by: Chelsea Novak | May 31, 2005

How’s my driving?

Imagine this…

You are a young man, driving down a tree-lined Toronto street. The early evening sun is streaming through the leaves of the trees and the weather is warm. Puddles from the previous day’s rain are almost gone.

You are headed to your friend’s house on this street. As you are making your way along the road you happen upon a girl. A young woman if you will. She is carrying a couple of grocery bags and is listening to an ipod. She is tall and well dressed, wearing a white denim skirt, light turquoise top, black cardigan, black mules and a fuschia purse. Her hair is long and brown. She has curled the lower sections of her hair as it is the day after a blowout, giving it a modern romantic look. Her posture is good and her step is light. You can tell she is in a good mood.

You slow down as you pass her, cranking your head around to get a look at her face. She is attractive, wearing green tinted sunglasses and clearly lost in what ever song she is listening to. You continue you stare as you drive by, unaware of the puddle you are about to drive into. You keep on staring at her and then feel your right wheel dip into the pot hole. Icky, brown, leftover rain-sludge flies backward from your front wheel and coats the legs and summer-white skirt of the girl. You turn your head to where you are driving and realize you are at your friends house. How embarrassing.

You pull over and get out of the car, hoping that the girl will just keep on walking and ignore the awkward situation. You are wrong. She stands at the front of your car and gives you a very, very dirty look. “Thanks for getting me with that puddle” she says icily. You stand there, speechless. You wonder what you should say. Will an apology suffice? Should you offer to give her money to pay for the cleaning bill? She’s looking at you and pointing at her skirt. It is covered in ugly dark splotches, a glaring contrast to the otherwise pristine white of the fabric.

You stammer out a lame “Oh.. Sorry about that” and she stares at you like you’ve killed all the younglings. A moment passes and she turns on her heel and marches away from you. You think you’re off the hook, but unbeknownst to you, she is cursing you out to all the gods of good grooming. You don’t know it, but you will be getting an enormous zit in the middle of your forehead on your wedding day, an explosive and sudden gastrointestinal problem as you walk into your next job interview and boils. Lots and lots of boils.

If only you had appeared more repentant or at least made the gesture of offering to pay for cleaning you leering, letcherous, ham-fisted, pedestrian-splashing, puddle-crazy asshat.

Today’s sing-a-long song: “Dirty Deeds” by AC/DC

HRH

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Responses

  1. WOW Chelsea, that really sucks. I hope you soaked your skirt in cold water so the stain didn’t set. Hey at least he didn’t run off the road right into you! Jenn O.

  2. That was sounding like a Penthouse Forum letter for a bit there.

    Then about halfway through, everything went horribly wrong.

  3. Let me know if you need me to bring in Haley’s Cleaning Hints. This may also be a sign to try the Oxyclean. – Laura

  4. Hey at least he didn’t run off the road right into you..It is covered in ugly dark splotches, a glaring contrast


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