What I love about the freelancing life is that I stay at home. I don’t have to wear makeup, do my hair, or even dress in “appropriate” clothing. I can wear what I want, even if it has stains on it.
Needless to say, this fosters a pretty lax attitude in me altogether, and since my neighbour across the street sees fit to parade around in either her housedress or a short nightie, I see no harm in what I wear.
Every single day, Lucy and I go for a jaunt around our neighbourhood. I think people are pretty familiar with us by now, most of them are at home all day as well. As one man on our street said, we’re all either newlywed or nearly dead. So most around here are retired or stay-at-home parents.
Today is muggy and overcast, with a humidex factor of 35 Celsius (no clue what that is in American). Neverthelss, as usual, Lucy and I set out.
I walk very fast, everywhere I go, no matter what. I just do. I do it because that’s how I am but also because I like the exercise. And today I did it because we’re expecting a thunderstorm and it felt imminent when we stepped out.
The first person we passed gave me a strange look after I bent down to pick up Lucy’s business. I thought it was perhaps because they’d watched my look of distaste and heard me comment on her inability to keep things more or less solid. (I talk to Lucy a lot when we’re walking. Any time, in fact.) But no.
Upon looking down I noticed that my somewhat low v-neck tee-shirt was hanging a little askew and the view, shall we say, was perhaps less than modest because I am wearing a worn-out bra that’s also a bit too small now.
To make matters worse, I caught the passer’s glance downward, and with a rush of embarrassment suddenly remembered I was wearing my Holy Jeans, the ones with the nicely formed hole at the crotch. Yes, my blue and green striped underwear was showing. Miraculously — thankfully — there are no holes in the underwear.
I walked on, faster than ever, adjusting myself while flinging around a less than opaque bag of dog poo and trying to hold the leash at the same time. I did see the humour in this, however, and was grinning like an idiot as I passed the next person and cheerfully said rather loudly to Lucy, as a clap of thunder sounded overhead, “Walk fucker!”
Of course, I meant faster. But the poor passerby hurried off before I could explain.
Oh dear lord.
I am sitting at my desk in a very still, serious, quiet environment with only the sound of the air conditioner humming away, and the occasional mouse clicking and keyboard clacking.
I am trying to hold it in, I really am, but the more I giggle inside, the more my shoulders heave and the more my teeth are bared. My head is roaring with laughter and it’s totally uncontainable.
I may have to share this one.
(except that I’m actually suposed to be working)
I am still laughing out loud!
Just go to the bathroom. You can laugh in privacy.
This story brings new meaning to letting it all hang out.
Steph,
No…you never would have stood a chance in Erotica.
Not while flinging around dog poo with your worn out undies hanging for all the world to enjoy.
But humor…..now THAT…you are good at!! LOL…
Wendi: LOL!! I can’t stop laughing!!
Dear Penthouse Forum…
I come from a small Mid-Western town. I thought all your stories were made up, until this actually happend to me…
One day, a woman was walking her dog, and bent over in front of me to pick up the dog poop. I coudln’t ‘ help but notice her low-cut bra through her V-neck T-shirt, and that there was a hole in her crotch….
Friar: AHAHAHA! Fresh gales of laughter!
Oh, man.
The funny thing is, you prompted me to write this post. I so enjoy reading your anecdotes, I thought, hey, I used to write more like this when I was working outside the home (more opportunity for funny stories), why not bring it back?
I share *everything* anyway, it seems!
Good thing you’re not like a certain kilt-wearing Viking, who keeps it “regimental”…
(no chafing jokes, Friar)
@ Brett: Regimental?! Hahahahaha!!!
And well, yes. There’s already one woman bending over in a short nightie. We don’t need to see more than that!
Although my rear is over thirty years younger….
Steph,
I was good until the striped underwear. TOO funny.
And Lucy tolerates your swearing quite well. She could have stopped for more business just to show you who’s boss!
As my Dad always says (to Mom, when she’s swearing)… “If you don’t KNOW the words, they can’t ‘accidentally’ slip out.”
Poor Lucy. She’ll be letting some expletives fly soon. “I had to go out with her wearing this let’s-paint-the-house outfit… It was so f**king embarrassing. What? What did I say?”
Worn, tired undies: sure sign of a long happy marriage.
Regards,
Kelly
Kelly: That image of Lucy swearing had me in a fit of giggles!! I can just see Friar’s cartoon…
@Brett
They keep saying you’re some kind of Kilted Wonder Friend, but I’ve yet to see you wear one! (I think it’s an Urban Myth).
Though I can picture you wearing a helmet with horns.
@Steph
I don’t Lucy would swear…(It’s not in dogs’ Vocabulary).
She’d just wait till you least expected it, and she’d drop a “present” in your shoe.
@Kelly
I’m not married, but I also have some tired old underwear. (I dunno…you kinda get attached to it).
Figuratively, I mean
(I keep myself clean, you know!)
Friar: I was going to say, “Oh, no, Lucy would never do—” and then I thought, but that’s what you said: “when I least expect it.”
Shit!
(pardon the pun)
@Brett: C’mon, you have to wear the kilt when you go see Friar next. Get like you did last night and you’ll be wearing the helmet too!
Cheers! (What’s that in Vikingspeak?)
You know Steph, just as the best presentations include visual aids, the best blogs inlcude pictures…
No…I don’t necessarily need to see Brett in his kilt.
Not when he goes “Regimental”.
Keep those boys inside, where they belong.
Bretthead: You know, I actually thought of that! But then I thought a picture of Lucy doing her business might be rude.
Friar: It gets *that* crazy when you two drink!?
No….but if he sits down on the couch across the room from me…
Well, that’s a view I don’t wanna see!
(Shudder)
oh where oh where is this going…I can’t be thinking of Brett that way…on the couch and all…its bad enough I can’t get the mental image of poop slinging Steph out of my mind.
It’s Friday, I’m going for the bottle opener.
Friar, Penthouse pays pretty well for letters… I’d submit that one. Playgirl paid me $25 for my short story, but they’re pretty trashy.
I often, often head out of my house in mis-matched socks, pajamas and sundresses that let the sun shine through. I don’t know if my neighbors love me or hate me.
I’m completely brain dead this afternoon. Going on a cupcake quest.
@Beth
Gee, that doesn’t seem like that much money, for all the work involved with a short story.
Doesn’t Reader’s Digest give $50-100 for one-paragraph blurbs?
Hmmmm…do you neighbors love you or hate you? I guess that would depends on how much sun “shines through” your dress.
Wendi: And I’m going for the pizza and movies!
Beth: Ah, so you know what I mean, then.
mmmm…CupcakeQuest…
Also, whoa, $25? Cheap bastards! (Still, it’s huge when it’s your first paid submission, eh? I haven’t got that far yet!)
you know how people always write the LOL thingie (and I often wonder if they are being polite or REALLY laughing out loud)?
Steph, you made me laugh. Out loud.
Now walk, fucker!
French Panic: Ditto: you just made me guffaw!!
Oh God, I can’t stop!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
Friar,
I have a friend who asks me before I go out on a date whether I bought underwear. She says that’s how I’ll know when it’s serious. (I tell her she’s sick.)
When I became blessedly single, that was one of my first resolutions: prioritize undies for my own sake, from now until I’m a great-grandma, man or no man. So my friend’s wrong, but I let her have her joke.
Steph,
It’ll happen. You’ll go to the grocery store, she’ll take a quiet moment to call her Ma, and she’ll let fly with the story. Mark my words.
Skol. I think that’s “cheers” for Vikings.
Later,
Kelly
@Kelly
Hmmm…I didn’t realize so much thought went behind ladies’ underwear. It’s probably similar to what goes on with shoes.
We guys are clueless about that kind of stuff.
I bet you it’s a secret Woman’s By-Law or something, that we men are kept in the dark about!
Friar,
Um..yeah, .we are ALWAYS wearing lacy, frothy, frilly wisps
‘O nothing under our jeans. Sure..everyday.
Keep thinking that. We want you to. Don’t let women like Poop-Waving Steph ruin the illusion.
Friar,
No, I think not worrying about it is the rule, and that my friend’s probably right about making purchases when you’re “serious,” but I’ve lived plenty of my days trying to please somebody else. I’m too old for that.
It’s like fixing up my house when I’m going to move. What I am saying about myself? I’m not good enough to live in a fixed up house but no doubt the next guy will deserve it? So, I fix things up for me, so to speak.
(Don’t worry, Wendi-bird. No wisps o’nothing. That’s just painful.)
Life philosophy meets lingerie. A recipe for disaster!
Later,
Kelly
(cover your ears Friar, and your eyes) actually, I always figured myself to be more of a berserker, so I’d just go into battle with a sword and a shield… nothing else (okay, maybe the horned helmet)
The kilt’s just to spare anybody seeing anything they don’t want to see in everyday life
Hahaha! All you guys.
Man, I don’t have a single pair of matching or frilly anything. Not for me or Colin. I don’t think he cares. Really, if it were for him, how long would it be on, anyway?
As for Brett, well, even berserkers need some sort of protective armour! For when they’re weakened after going berserk, you see.
Steph — I get those “you’re a whore, aren’t you?” looks a lot. I don’t usually wear a bra to sit around my apartment, and I frequently go out to check my mail or walk to the store before remembering that it’s no longer winter coat season and everyone can see my boobies through my tshirt. It will be winter again soon enough. LOL
Amy: Hahaha!!
See? There’s something about us freelancers: more comfortable than all the others allow themselves to be. They only wish we could see their boobies.
I read once that you should get dressed to go out when working from home to work better
Never found that was a good option to be honest.
Who wants to wear a skirt and heels while you are writing in bed???
Not me!
Rachel: Welcome!
I’ve heard the same thing — and me neither!!
Geez.
All this talk about boobies.
How’s a Friar supposed to get any work done?
HAHAHAHAHAHA!! Oh, Friar.
Thank goodness there aren’t any pictures!
@Steph
Well, you know, there’s always Flickr.