So. I have a sister that lives about 40 minutes from me. We are both in the stage of pregnancy that most books and journals call "the awkward oafish stage". The other night we decided that we both desperately needed a very large Cold Stone Ice Cream. "Let's take the Jeep" says I. "OK" says oaf #2. Let me set the scene. Two very pregnant sisters (who look a little freakishly like twins) are going to "hop" into the Jeep Wrangler and take themselves for ice cream. Oh, years ago we would have been hot stuff. Two blonds who look like twins cruisin the night through a college town, headed out for somethin' cold. The reality of the situation set in before the motor even started. Abby couldn't get in the car. The Jeep actually has doors but it is still quite a hike to climb in. Since we were in an empty apartment parking lot we got each other in with some immodest difficulty. We realized what a mistake our choice of transportation was about 1/4 mile down the road. With every bump we were wincing, holding our bellies and clinching our thighs to prevent birth in an open deathtrap. We arrived at our destination and tried to avoid the stares of the pregnant "yetties" ordering very large helpings of ice cream with multiple mix ins. Getting back into the Jeep was the best though. I am picking on my little sister only because she is younger, prettier, usually skinnier, and currently bigger (she is seven weeks ahead of me). The eyes at the establishment followed us to our hip vehicle and watched as Abby decided she was going to leap into the car in a single bound. Anyone that wasn't already looking did so at my loud gafaw that escaped when her single leap simply bumped her awkwardly into the side of the car. I laughed half the way home because I was depressed at how UNCOOL we have become. The only hopes that anyone could ever possibly find us attractive in any way would be the single thought..."hey, those chics put-out".
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Just plain uncoolness...
So. I have a sister that lives about 40 minutes from me. We are both in the stage of pregnancy that most books and journals call "the awkward oafish stage". The other night we decided that we both desperately needed a very large Cold Stone Ice Cream. "Let's take the Jeep" says I. "OK" says oaf #2. Let me set the scene. Two very pregnant sisters (who look a little freakishly like twins) are going to "hop" into the Jeep Wrangler and take themselves for ice cream. Oh, years ago we would have been hot stuff. Two blonds who look like twins cruisin the night through a college town, headed out for somethin' cold. The reality of the situation set in before the motor even started. Abby couldn't get in the car. The Jeep actually has doors but it is still quite a hike to climb in. Since we were in an empty apartment parking lot we got each other in with some immodest difficulty. We realized what a mistake our choice of transportation was about 1/4 mile down the road. With every bump we were wincing, holding our bellies and clinching our thighs to prevent birth in an open deathtrap. We arrived at our destination and tried to avoid the stares of the pregnant "yetties" ordering very large helpings of ice cream with multiple mix ins. Getting back into the Jeep was the best though. I am picking on my little sister only because she is younger, prettier, usually skinnier, and currently bigger (she is seven weeks ahead of me). The eyes at the establishment followed us to our hip vehicle and watched as Abby decided she was going to leap into the car in a single bound. Anyone that wasn't already looking did so at my loud gafaw that escaped when her single leap simply bumped her awkwardly into the side of the car. I laughed half the way home because I was depressed at how UNCOOL we have become. The only hopes that anyone could ever possibly find us attractive in any way would be the single thought..."hey, those chics put-out".
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