Foggy Windows and Humiliation

blouse: c/o OASAP (buy it here) skirt: Nordstrom   headband: handmade   shoes: Call It Spring

I have been scarred. I’m talking remain mute and twitch every three seconds scarred. Can we have a little blog therapy time? You can just nod and let your eyes glaze over if you want, but this story is entertaining as heck so you may want to stay alive, alert and aaaaaaafixiated (sorry I just wanted to have three A words in there)…. Anyways (hey there’s a fourth!). So this one time in middle school, I’m out for a late night jog. And I’m running in this gravely parking lot, the kind where all you can hear is that loud cccuuush sound that your feet are making as they grind against the gravel. I start to head toward the end of the parking lot where there is this car, it’s light blue, with rust creeping around the edges. But something doesn’t seem…normal. The two back car doors are open, and out of one side hang four little legs all intertwined and tangly, and there are certain…..noises…..occurring. So I did what any naïve fourteen year old would do, I booked it as fast as I could out of there before my eye balls turned into jello. I was lucky, it was a true miracle that I didn’t….see anything. So anyways, yesterday, I’m out with the Indian, and we’re walking past this parking lot. And the Indian, she books it over to this car on the far end of the lot. And she starts circling the car, circling and circling, all angsty and weird like. So I head towards her and yell, “HEY WHAT ARE YOU DOING WEIRDO!!! COOOOMEEEERE! COOOOMEEERE!” and  then I see them, two people all tangly like....if you know what I'm saying. And they're completely frozen, like if they don’t move then they’ll just disappear into the upholstery of the car, and I realize that they totally think that I was yelling at them. All that I could think to do was grab Indie football quarterback style, and run away……oh so very far away and as I did I yelled, “ THIS IS SO AWKWARD! THIS IS SOOOOOO AWKWARD!” And then I went home and did an Ace Ventura style cleanse, scrubbed my eye balls with rubbing alcohol, gave Indie her first birds and bees talk. And then I died inside. The end. Can I get a little therapy up in here? What’s the most awkward thing YOU’VE ever experienced. This trauma victim could use a little laugh.