So then there was that time I was covered in tar.
Oh, you want details. Well, you would.
Listen, y’all can get covered in tar all by yourselves. You don’t need me to do it! Here’s how it works:
- Park your car 8 blocks from the sushi place because you’re always afraid you won’t find a closer parking space and you’ll end up circling endlessly while your sushi sits there getting stale.
- Walk 7 blocks in broiling heat.
- Encounter a large tar patch that has NO signs or blockades or whatever to keep you from walking on it.
- Look around nervously. There is literally no way to avoid that tar.
- Place one flip-flopped foot (yes, those adorable pink Paul Frank flip-flops that you wear 24/7 [YES, in bed!] even though you’re supposed to be wearing orthotics, but dang, it’s hot and your feet sweat) gingerly on the tarred surface.
- Pay close attention to that sinking feeling. It’s telling you that you should’ve found a detour because this tar is NOT DRY. Your flip-flops are sticking. It’s the freaking La Brea Tar Pit all up in here and YOU’RE WALKING IN IT DUMBASS!
- But what else can you do? There are no signs!
- Grimly, you pull each foot up and with it, about a pound of tar. You feel large chunks of it hit the back of your legs as you walk.
- The name “flip-flop” begins to take on a darker meaning.
- Reach down to flick off those bits of tar from your leg. Realize tar doesn’t flick so much as stick.
- Try flinging former leg tar off of hand. It won’t fling either.
- For god’s sakes, don’t . . . DON’T. Oh, man. You did. You’re going to have to cut off that piece of hair, you know.
- Your face will now begin to itch. Whatever you do . . . boy, you just don’t listen, do you?
- Enter sushi place and ignore the fact that everyone is staring in horror at this tar-encrusted monster who is flinging and flicking and shaking and scratching.
- Pay for sushi with tar-covered money from your tar-filled purse and take your sorry tarry ass home.
Once you’re in the safety of your locked bedroom, consult the experts on tar removal:
These experts will not help you so much as make fun of you, but there’s healing to be found in being mocked and humiliated.
Eat your sushi and quit complaining.
* * *
Hey, speaking of tar, remember that guest post on skin tag removal? Guess who wrote that?
GUESS, I said.
It was our friend Junk Drawer Kathy!
Yup. She didn’t want to say “hooha” at her place, so she dragged her triumphant but gag-inducing story of skin tags and lady parts over here, where all manner of grossness is welcome and treated with the respect it deserves.
Thank you, Kathy! (AKA: “Some Lady.”)