12.03.2005
Do you have a vacancy for a Beefeater position?
So, I went to leave my house this evening to make a quick jaunt down to the corner store for a mighty six-pack...and, I've been feeling uber-lazy this evening...last night and this afternoon pretty much took it out of me, so I've been ok with staying in an doing nothing...so, without any external motivation, it took a while for me to get off my ass to go all of three block to the store...and, usually, I walk...unless it's after dark, at which time, I'm usually too wary of my surroundings to walk down the street alone...with beer...so, yeah...it was after dark and I drove.
Where's this story going? Just wait...well, nowhere really...but, just wait anyway.
Anyway, before I could leave the house, I realized that I should probably put on some sort of shoes...see the above uber-lazy explanation...I wasn't really in the mood to go through the super-stressful motions of bending down, slipping on and tying the typical "shoe"...and I don't own any clogs...but, I DO own flip-flops...score.
But, here's the catch...I was wearing socks...and it would've taken even more effort to take off my socks...and, on top of that, my feet would be cold...oh, the horror of these possibilities.
So..I stood at the threshold of my closet and thought, "Would anyone really notice or, hell, care if I leave my house for 5 minutes wearing flip-flops con socks?"...And here's moment of my life that my stepmother has been waiting for...
...immediately following that thought came the internal voice of my stepmother saying, "Mel-a-rific, EVERY time you leave the house, you should be fit to meet the Queen...EVERY time...that's what my mother always told me and I take it to heart everyday."
...of course, my imagination stepped in at this point and I pictured myself standing in line at the Snappy Mart...six-pack of Guiness in hand...my bottom extremities adorned in flip-flops con socks...blankly staring at the register thinking about the cigarettes that I'm NOT going to purchase...
..and then...myself and several other patrons in line instinctively glance at the door when we hear the "incoming customer" bells jingle...and, well I'll be...enter the Queen! We all perk up a bit and try to look honorable while clutching our Ding-Dongs, .79-cent fountain drinks, and porno mags...the check out line morphs into a make-shift receiving line as Her Majesty begins to case the group...
After several seconds, the Queen approaches me, extends her wrinkly, jewel encrusted hand and immediately recoils in horror, proclaiming, "Gasp! YOU!...YOU'VE crushed all my pre-conceived notions of the stylish, respectable American...you, with your sock and flip-flop wearing....Out! Out of my kingdom! Guards!...Oh wait...I'm at the Snappy Mart...best be going now...Cherrio! "
So, in the end, I decided to put on regular shoes...I just couldn't shake it. You never know...it could happen. And, if not the Queen, what about Jesus?
You've won this round, step-mother...you too, Queen...
Where's this story going? Just wait...well, nowhere really...but, just wait anyway.
Anyway, before I could leave the house, I realized that I should probably put on some sort of shoes...see the above uber-lazy explanation...I wasn't really in the mood to go through the super-stressful motions of bending down, slipping on and tying the typical "shoe"...and I don't own any clogs...but, I DO own flip-flops...score.
But, here's the catch...I was wearing socks...and it would've taken even more effort to take off my socks...and, on top of that, my feet would be cold...oh, the horror of these possibilities.
So..I stood at the threshold of my closet and thought, "Would anyone really notice or, hell, care if I leave my house for 5 minutes wearing flip-flops con socks?"...And here's moment of my life that my stepmother has been waiting for...
...immediately following that thought came the internal voice of my stepmother saying, "Mel-a-rific, EVERY time you leave the house, you should be fit to meet the Queen...EVERY time...that's what my mother always told me and I take it to heart everyday."
...of course, my imagination stepped in at this point and I pictured myself standing in line at the Snappy Mart...six-pack of Guiness in hand...my bottom extremities adorned in flip-flops con socks...blankly staring at the register thinking about the cigarettes that I'm NOT going to purchase...
..and then...myself and several other patrons in line instinctively glance at the door when we hear the "incoming customer" bells jingle...and, well I'll be...enter the Queen! We all perk up a bit and try to look honorable while clutching our Ding-Dongs, .79-cent fountain drinks, and porno mags...the check out line morphs into a make-shift receiving line as Her Majesty begins to case the group...
After several seconds, the Queen approaches me, extends her wrinkly, jewel encrusted hand and immediately recoils in horror, proclaiming, "Gasp! YOU!...YOU'VE crushed all my pre-conceived notions of the stylish, respectable American...you, with your sock and flip-flop wearing....Out! Out of my kingdom! Guards!...Oh wait...I'm at the Snappy Mart...best be going now...Cherrio! "
So, in the end, I decided to put on regular shoes...I just couldn't shake it. You never know...it could happen. And, if not the Queen, what about Jesus?
You've won this round, step-mother...you too, Queen...
Comments:
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RE: Uber-laziness:
You're not alone in the facing the problem of putting on shoes or removing socks and wearing flipflops. Looks like you've solved this problem once and for all! Socks AND flipflops! I commend you!
My mother never mentioned the possibility of meeting the Queen as a reason to dress 'respectably' (probably b/c she was Irish). Instead, she promoted the "What if you're in a car accident?" school of thought.
Well, now that I'm older, I figure if I'm in a terrible car accident, there will probably be enough blood n' guts everywhere to cover up any laundry faux pas I may have committed and no EMTs will be harmed in the making of that film.
However, if you do meet The Queen again, please tell her I said, "Chip chip! Cheerio!" and that I prefer Frosted Flakes.
Thank you.
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You're not alone in the facing the problem of putting on shoes or removing socks and wearing flipflops. Looks like you've solved this problem once and for all! Socks AND flipflops! I commend you!
My mother never mentioned the possibility of meeting the Queen as a reason to dress 'respectably' (probably b/c she was Irish). Instead, she promoted the "What if you're in a car accident?" school of thought.
Well, now that I'm older, I figure if I'm in a terrible car accident, there will probably be enough blood n' guts everywhere to cover up any laundry faux pas I may have committed and no EMTs will be harmed in the making of that film.
However, if you do meet The Queen again, please tell her I said, "Chip chip! Cheerio!" and that I prefer Frosted Flakes.
Thank you.
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