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Fippity Flappity Flop
February 20, 2008

The day started out pretty normal for me - I spilled something, swore, got in the shower, dropped my shampoo bottle - swore a little more. I know my hairdresser thinks I drink the stuff or use it in soups. I don't have the heart to tell her the stuff I pay roughly $5698.00 an ounce for goes mostly down the drain.

I really don't have the heart to tell The Husband that little tidbit, either.

So the day was on course for normal average every day for me. Right down to the point where I spilled hot tea on my bootless foot.

...little pause here... did I tell you I quit coffee? I know, right? I live in The Coffee Capital of All The Universe. And I come from people who drink coffee that looks like motor oil. But I quit, kind of out of just forgetting to drink it, and kind of out of not being able to find the perfect cup in NYC. (Please - no letters. I am funny about my coffee...) It started out innocent enough, I was too sick to drink coffee. And then on Day 2 Sans Java I had the headache to crush all headaches and realized it was part dehydration, part caffeine withdrawal. Someone was nice enough to retrieve a cup for me from the place on the corner of 56th & 6th in Manhattan... the National retailer... rhymes with “Harshucks”...

And - the coffee? It was crap. I don't know if it was just me or all the puking or just that the barista was having a bad day - but it was bad. And I just never looked back. At first I kind of forgot about it, being all entranced with Bergdorf’s and all, and when I got home it just became a game. And then my worst fear came true - I didn't miss it. Not the taste, not the smell - not the sound of a whirling coffee grinder - nothing. I was over my love affair with java, a truth even to hard for me to believe. And I realized I had no other option but to start satisfying my needs by drinking green tea and keeping it a secret. My people would never understand, never forgive me. Green tea and me - we're secret lovers - we're on the 'D-L', just tea kettle whispers in the darkness.

But I have found that hot tea feels the same when hot coffee hits a bare foot. It's all just hot liquid mocking me in its cascading folly.

So, anyway, I spilled the tea. Cleaned it up, put on my new trench coat and was on my way. I had a long list of things to conquer; A Trick meeting (amazingly normal), a stop at the market (amazingly without all the crazies) and a stop by the tax man (not amazingly still a bastard).

And all through my travels I kept hearing this noise - a noise I attributed to The Car. The poor, poor car. And I shrugged it off by turning up the volume on the radio so that I could sing about rehab along with a woman who not only needs some rehab; she could use a big sandwich and a new pair of shoes.

It wasn't until my ride home that the flippity flappity flop started to concern me. Was I dragging something? An animal? A child? The Air Mattress I ran over on the freeway? So I started leaning all over The Car, as if I was The Car Whisperer, so I could listen close and see if I could telepathically understand the issue. And when I leaned toward the glove box I realized just exactly where the noise was coming from - it was the damn belt from The Trench Coat - hanging out my door.

I drove all over that day, both to and fro, and every dang time my belt was hanging out my door. Did it occur to me to tie the belt? No. Did it occur to me to check that the belt was on my lap? No. It was just there - hanging out my door like a sad sock that didn't quite make it into the top drawer.


So if you saw someone driving like a manic all over the freeway with her trench belt flapping in the wind - that was me.

And if you actually saw someone like that and you could swear that person was eating French Fries and drinking soda pop from a National Fast-food Chain - rhymes with "Lack-Ronald’s" - then that was not me.

Really.


I swear.

Posted by Foodwhore at February 20, 2008 09:39 PM

yeah bash those franchise bastards. they sell shit anyway.

oh! maybe a career in the food industry isn't an exact match for you. Have you thought about stand up? Not that I am telling you what to do with your life or anything.

Posted by: LiberalFoodie at February 21, 2008 07:57 AM

I've had that withdrawl headache too. Quelle surprise! as if I didn't know it was addictive. mmmm big mac mmmmm.

Posted by: Shelley at February 21, 2008 08:55 AM

I've done that too and I never learn. I thought there was something wrong with the car. It happens with long skirts as well.

Posted by: jennywenny at February 21, 2008 12:44 PM

 
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