Really, Bean?
I have family coming into town tomorrow.
My dad is here in the states, visiting from Thailand, and I'm finally going to get a chance to meet my new stepmom.
My uncle is also coming up to visit.
After they arrive tomorrow the Bean and I are heading over to downtown Portland, to go to some uber-fancy Christmas party for his work.
It's all Filet Mignon, formal wear and fancy champagne flutes.
And guess who has a giant new hicky on her neck?
The Bean and I were.... uh..... "folding towels", and I was like, "Yeah! You fold that towel! Woohoo for towels! Folding towels is great! Go laundry!...... wait. WAIT. STOP. DID YOU JUST GIVE ME A HICKY?"
But by then it was too late.
Seriously, who even gives hickies anymore? We're 31 years old, Bean. Nobody is going to buy the whole "I burnt myself with a curling iron" excuse.
If anyone asks me about it, I plan on telling them, "Yeah, my husband - that guy over there - gave it to me during a vigorous towel-folding session", and then refuse to elaborate.
Unless it's my dad that's doing the asking.
In that case, I burnt myself with a curling iron.
My dad is here in the states, visiting from Thailand, and I'm finally going to get a chance to meet my new stepmom.
My uncle is also coming up to visit.
After they arrive tomorrow the Bean and I are heading over to downtown Portland, to go to some uber-fancy Christmas party for his work.
It's all Filet Mignon, formal wear and fancy champagne flutes.
And guess who has a giant new hicky on her neck?
(PS: I take back all the bad things I ever said about people who take pictures in bathrooms - it's harder than you think.)
The Bean and I were.... uh..... "folding towels", and I was like, "Yeah! You fold that towel! Woohoo for towels! Folding towels is great! Go laundry!...... wait. WAIT. STOP. DID YOU JUST GIVE ME A HICKY?"
But by then it was too late.
Seriously, who even gives hickies anymore? We're 31 years old, Bean. Nobody is going to buy the whole "I burnt myself with a curling iron" excuse.
If anyone asks me about it, I plan on telling them, "Yeah, my husband - that guy over there - gave it to me during a vigorous towel-folding session", and then refuse to elaborate.
Unless it's my dad that's doing the asking.
In that case, I burnt myself with a curling iron.
Labels: Embarrassing Stories, Married Life
posted by Becky at
11:27 AM
9 Comments:
OK, but one time, I really did burn myself with a curling iron and no one believed me.
Anyway, the bruise will blend right in with your limp, right? :)
Your life is so interesting.
I think you're going to have to get a Victorian blouse with a really high neck that feels like its going to choke you. Or keep your chin stuck to your shoulder all night and pretend you pulled a muscle. Don't tell anybody about this blog.
Make sure your dad says "hi" here. We'd love to hear from him.
...a large part of the reason I started wearing collared shirts when I ride has less to do with 'looking like a horse trainer' and more with 'don't worry about the towels Mike and I folded last night'.
Green cover-up makeup neutralizes red marks. On top of that, you can add your usual foundation, powder, etc. It saved me from dying of embarrassment during my adolescent breakouts prior to that time of the month.
Uh, doesn't your dad already read this blog?
Towel folding, indeed.
If in doubt - scarves.
On the plus side, it blends in with your awesome new red hair! Maybe he was just trying to redecorate the rest of you. Blame it on Mercedes, she is the one that made you all extra smexy with the new 'do ;)
I absolutely cannot wait until your Dad's next guest post...
I just recently came across this blog and I love it! I've been reading older posts and laughing till my guts hurt. I love them. Thanks for writing and keep it up!
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