We have all been embarrassed at one point or another in our lives. Some of us, more than others. Sometimes we are able to laugh it off. Sometimes we want to hide the rest of our lives, other incidents we just flat out deny.
I used to be a denier…it catches up to you though. People don’t forget, doesn’t matter how much money, chocolate, etc…. you offer them. It is embedded in their memory forever. They laugh, they joke all at your expense.
So, what if I wrote a book, a thick book…an encyclopedia-thick book about my most embarrassing moments. What if it was even in Oprah’s book club? Ha!
I would call it, “Things I Accidentally Meant To Do,” or “Life! Before The Padded Walls.” Whatever, it’s my book, I’ll decide.
It will have lots of chapters, (I will change the names to protect the innocent for enough money and chocolate.) Chapter one will be called. “Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head” It will be a tricky chapter as it will have 3 parts to it.
Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head
If The Shoe FitsWhile out looking for a new pair of slippers, I came across a Mr. Potato Head slipper. I jokingly told my shopping companion, (no name, gave me $ and chocolate!) “too bad there’s only one of those…I would have gotten them!” A lady, slightly older than myself overheard me and asked, “if I find the other one for you, you’ll buy them?” Uh-oh!!! “well yeah, if they’re my size.” She gave me the look, you know the…try them on you idiot before I dig through 3,472 mismatched slippers to find the matching Mr. Potato Head.
Long story short, I got new slippers.
Dumpster DivingSo I have my new slippers and quite honestly I grew very fond of them. I wore those little guys all the time. One night…one late night I, (living in an apartment complex at the time) took the trash out to the dumpster. I was, as usual on the phone. As I hurled the trash into the dumpster, so went the phone. What the….do I do now? (after a small conference with my ducks) it was clear I needed to go in after it. I went and got a patio chair from my porch. Hoping the person on the phone realized what had happened I encouraged them to keep screaming my name so I could find my phone. After all it was very dark and I didn’t want to spend a second longer in there than needed.
I got in and got the phone. Just as I was ready to get out a car pulls in, next to the dumpster. O.K., be still, he will never see you… (I wonder how many rats are lurking below me ready to attack me?) I was grossed out. I was freaking out. The person on the phone, Deanna (she gave me no $ or chocolate) had hung up, the ducks were too smart to ever get in there in the first place. I was on my own. Just get out of your damn car already and go inside. I don’t know if he saw me or the chair outside the dumpster but something sparked his curiosity. “Hi” was all I could think to say. “You o.k?” he asked. “Yes, just dropped something.” Was the most intelligible thing I could think of. “Oh….” (so why on God’s earth are you still standing in there talking to me?) I knew I had to get out sooner or later…here it goes. Dignity? Pride? Gone! This man (and I would use his name if I knew it!) will always remember me as the 40ish year old lady who, in the middle of the night he watch climb out of a dumpster, clad in p.j.’s , one Mr. Potato Head slipper at a time!
I’ve Really Lost It Now! I loved my Mr. Potato slippers so much. But they had walked the depths of the dumpster. No matter how many times I washed them, I just couldn’t bring myself to wear them again. (they, were what separated me from the attack rats!)
Off to Wal-Mart I go to get another pair. None. Another Wal-Mart. Zilch. The next, nope. But check this out, they had….Mrs. Potato Head!!!!!! ONE pair in MY size. I snatched the babies up faster than…well, I snatched them up fast.
Tra-la-la-la la-la la! I got new slippers!
I continued my little shopping trip (doing the happy dance every now and then!!) then headed up to the register, anxious to pay for my new treasures….that’s when I noticed, IT was missing. The left Mrs. Potato Head slipper was gone. Breathe. It has to be here somewhere. I re-walked my path. Nothing. Re-walked it again, looking under, over and around the racks. Nothing. I am panicking now. I NEED HELP! I asked a kind associate in the area if she had found a sole slipper lying around. No. Bless this Wal-Mart associates heart, she saw my meltdown coming on and offered to help me look and even enlisted the help of another associate. “What did it look like?”
“Could you be more specific?”
“Pink and purple.”
We walked the store, than again. Honest to God, I was near tears. I think that is why they were so willing to go above and beyond to help me.
“These must be very special slippers,”
“Are they for you?”
The nice (but nosey) lady then gets a beep on her Wal-Mart walkie-talkie. Seems I need to be a little more specific about what these special slippers look like. Now, I have a choice…walk away NOW and never look back or tell these nosey associates my slipper business. I chose to tell. Hmmm mmm…she clears her throat. Amused and a little pissed at the same time, she relays the details on her Wal-Mart walkie-talkie. She assures me at that point they will keep their eyes open; they will call me if they find anything, yadda, yadda. What? Are they not helping me look anymore? Isn’t that their job?? It was right about then, I hear the announcement. It was loud, very loud and very clear. “Will the (annoying) lady who lost her (left) Mrs. Potato Head slipper (and had the whole flippen store searching for it as if it were a lost child) please come to the front of the store (so everyone can see who you are and laugh at you hysterically) we have found your slipper.
A good author (or someone planning to one day write a encyclopedia-thick book, or be in Oprah’s book club) will keep you in suspense. Stay tuned for Chapter 2…
I Can See Clearly Now
I am not normal.
I wish I was but I’m not.
Many of you already know this, some may be figuring it out right about now and well, for the rest of you…here’s a heads up.
I tend to do things to the extreme. For example organization, I am either very organized or very disorganized. This particular day I was the latter of the two. (bet you’re shocked…. whatever, this is about ME not YOU!)
So, I am out running errands. In one store out the next…. tossing receipts, change, candy wrappers, etc…. into my purse at each stop.
Many of you already know this, I also have very sensitive eyes or at least I have convinced myself of this making it impossible for me to even take the trash out without wearing sunglasses. They are a must for me everywhere I go. I have my chic little NINEWEST glasses and my trendy DKNY shades. I really have no preference between the two; I keep them both with me and usually put on the first ones I can find.
So, back to the errands.
I am at my last stop, CVS (I had a $50.00 gift card for transferring 2 prescriptions there. Kind of like transferring a balance from one credit card to another for the perks, I do that with meds!) I’m walking through there like a bat out of hell, diet coke, cookies, post-it notes, magazines, all for free, free, free!! I get up to the register and proudly present my $50.00 gift card. They run it through and hand it back to me with $1.32 remaining on the card. As I’m walking back to my car I’m trying to figure out what I spent $48.68 on and I go into a full-blown panic… I cannot find my chic little NINEWEST glasses OR my trendy DKNY shades. Surely I could not have lost both pair…. surely. I dig and dig through the chaos surrounding me. Nothing! I probably was so excited about my free diet coke, cookies, post-it notes, and magazines- I walked out of the store and left them…at least one of them on the counter. I will just go back in there and I will get them. I rush back in (before I go blind) and look on the counter, nothing. There were a few people in line but they probably wouldn’t mind if I just asked the CVS checkout dude if he had found a pair of my sunglasses on the counter. Well, they obviously did mind as they all gave me a funny look. The checkout dude gave me a weird look too. (I think he was hoping I had came back in to spend my remaining $1.32) No, he had not found a pair of my sunglasses.
Many of you already know this, I suffer from O.C.D. (obsessive compulsive disorder) but ‘hoarding’ has never been an issue. I have dealt with many symptoms but this has not been one of them. Well it may be an issue now.
Back to the story.
I climb into my car, (practically blind because my eyes are so sensitive) as the rude people in the store walk by me they continue to give me funny looks.
Do I have a booger in my nose?
Cookie crumbs on my face?
Imagine the horror I felt as I looked in the mirror and found BOTH my chic little NINEWEST glasses and my trendy DKNY shades had been resting atop my head the whole time.
Pieces Of Me
It was not my fault.
I have acid reflux.
I cope with it but it sure can cause havoc.
It was my big break, an opportunity that most can only dream of. It was a performance of a lifetime. The first song went without a hitch. (a star is born!) It was time to go out there again and show the world what I could do, strut my stuff. (Ha! Jessica who?) Feeling pretty confident, I positioned myself on stage. There was only about a gazillion people watching…the venue was full and all cameras were on me, (the star!) When, without a warning I hear this voice, singing, my voice! I flippin’ did not even have the microphone up to my mouth yet…what the…OMG….I’m so busted. How will I explain to the gazillion people watching me I have acid reflux and that just this one time I had to lip sync…oh dear God daddy, think of something quick!! So, maybe if I do a little hoedown dance nobody will even notice, maybe if I….Wait…oh sh*t, that wasn’t even me. Never mind….
Somethin’s Fishy In Hair
Ever been fishing?
Ever caught a fish?
Unfortunately it wasn’t while I was fishing!
I was on one of my many trips to the river (way back when.) I had spent the day water skiing, tubing, swimming…you know, the typical river stuff. It was late in the afternoon, (by river ‘time standards.’) After strutting my stuff all day I was ready to sit, relax and have a cocktail. I carefully situated my beach chair (or is it a river chair when your at the river?) on the beach so I could soak up the few hours of sun that remained in my busy day. It is an unspoken rule at the river that if you’re going to strut your stuff in a micro bikini, one must look good. This means no uneven tan lines.
Back to my story. I situated myself, my micro bikini and my cocktail in my beach/river chair. There I sat, alone. Everyone else was enjoying their cocktails in their beach/river chairs about waist deep in the water. Poor souls are going to have uneven tan lines I thought as the sweat poured off my evenly tanned body. It soon became obvious why they were in the water. As my cocktail was on the brink of boiling and my evenly tanned body was on the verge of dehydrating, I had to make a choice. Do I continue on with this near death experience and remain in the blistering 125-degree heat? Do I forfeit my even tan for my health?
As my cup runneth over with my now boiling cocktail, I thought about my kids and how useless I would be to them as a piece of beef jerky. With that in mind…I repositioned myself and joined my uneven tanned friends in the water. Now, bear in mind this was a few years back…. So along with my even tan, and micro bikini, I also sported long, golden, curly tresses. Long and curly being the key words here.
Now, one by one my unevenly tanned friends are deserting me, walking away rather briskly. Is it an issue that I have an even tan? Did the sound of my skin sizzling as it touched the water startle them? Perhaps they needed a cocktail refill? They inform me there was “something” in the water nibbling on their toes and bums. They have obviously had too many cocktails. I feel or see nothing in the water but the reflection of my evenly tanned body, micro bikini and long, golden, curly tresses.
I secretly do a quick ‘pit’ check to see if my B.O. juice had failed me today. Negative. Damn fish tales! I recline my chair a bit, after all, I’m alone now, I can take up as much room as I want. I lay my head back and let my hair flow with the water. It feels so refreshing, I recline a little more. There is nothing biting my toes or bum…. but then again my unevenly tanned friends have probably had quite a few more cocktails than myself! They really need to quit drinking so early in the day! So now my hair is submerged in the water and I am looking up at the big beautiful blue sky. Silly friends. Silly, drunk friends I think to myself…. So now I feel my hair flowing but it’s not flowing with the water, it’s caught in a riptide. It’s being pulled to the left, to the right, down, out. Was the river swallowing me whole? Did I have more cocktails than I thought? I wasn’t going down with out a fight, I didn’t surrender to the sun and turn into a piece of beef jerky, I sure wasn’t going to let the river devour me whole. I have kids to take care of.
It’s time to take control. I try to sit up but my hair (why do I always have the hair issues?) is caught in the treacherous seas. I reach my hand (bravely) into the waters to try and free my golden tresses. That’s when it happened. I felt it, it was bigger than life. It was a fish…. caught, stuck, devouring my hair. I somehow got to my feet, Jaws still clinging with all its might. As I swing my head side to side, looking as if I am auditioning for a White Snake video, doing moves I have only seen Gold Medal gymnasts do I hear a splash. I am free…I am in one piece…I am alive. (Which at this point I am not so sure this is a good thing) I look up at the beach and there stood all my uneven tanned friends. Doubled over, on the ground, roaring…. with laughter. I am beginning to think my silly friends, my silly drunk friends were not so silly or drunk after all. They warned me and they were right. My only relief from this was to know that I did not have B.O., they abandoned me for legitimate reasons.
No longer do I have the even tanned body, the micro bikini, or the long golden tresses. I will however always have the memory…the horror of the day I caught a fish…in my hair!!!
Meet My Dad….er Mom
I had good intentions, I really did.
My son had just started dating his girlfriend. She had been to our house a few times but we had never really had the opportunity to just sit, talk, and get to know each other. (This was probably my son’s way of protecting his new romance!) Well I’m the mom, and I needed to get to know this girl who had stolen my son’s loving heart!
I decided to plan a dinner for all of us…. a good way to get to know somebody. (Do they have manners, do they chew with their mouth open, do they say please and thank you, do they offer to pick up the tab?) I wanted to make a decent impression as well so;
Rule #1: Do not cook.
I arranged for us to meet at a local, casual restaurant.
Rule #2: Be on time.
I have a habit of running late, very late! But not this time, I was going to do my boy proud. Not only was I going to be on time, I was going to…are you sitting down….. hold on….. I was going to be…take a deep breath…. I was going to be early! What a good mom I am! So, I had good intentions. I didn’t make it early but I was on time, unlike my son and the girl who stole his loving heart.
Now I was worried, I was on time, which meant I probably forgot something important.
Wig? Oh my gosh! (just kidding) Check.
Make-up? Better run to the Ladies room and double check, I probably have a minute or two before they arrive. So, I walk into the restroom and find they have no mirrors on the walls. What the freak…this place is obviously going down hill…. I then remember this cute little Clinque lipstick case that has a mirror in it in my purse. (I think my mom had put it in my Christmas stocking in 2004, no actually I think it was 2005 because it was the year I got my Karaoke. It could have been 2004 but if I had to bet on it I would say 2005.) Uh-hm, back to the story. I pull out my little mirror (that I got sometime in 2000)….. my wig was a little twisted so I fixed that, make-up looked pretty damn good if I say so myself. A little bit of lipstick and I was good to go….. just so happened I had some in my Clinique lipstick case!
O.K. take a deep breath and go out there and do your boy proud. I swung open the door of the restrooms (that had no mirrors) I took one step out. That’s when it happened. I saw her, the girls of my son’s dreams. We were face to face; she was coming out of a room right across from me. (What in the heck is she doing? Where in sam’s hell is she coming from?) Then…. gulp….then, the door closed behind her, it said,
I could not move, hell I couldn’t even breathe. Still holding my door somewhat open, I just stood there. Me, in my straight wig, my perfect make up and my freshly applied lipstick. She somehow was able to maintain her composure. It was then a very nice man excused himself as he walked between us. I moved to the side to allow him to get by me. Oh dear God, this is bad. Should I run? Fake amnesia? Laugh? Cry? Break out into another hoedown dance?
It was then our name was called, I don’t know if this was good or bad. Just breathe…take a deep breath and walk. You’ve pretty much already blown it making your boy proud, it couldn’t get any worse. As I released the door and we walked away I watched as this girl took a double look, maybe even a triple look at the door I had come out of. This is what she saw,
I whispered my secret to my boyfriend which was a big mistake, as he broke out into laughter on and off all through out dinner. (great, now she thinks we are both crazy!)
We were all eventually able to laugh about it. The more time she spent with us, the more she realized it wasn’t that crazy. It was just one more day in the life of Heidi!
Toy StoryIt had been a wonderful day. Weather was great, work had been productive…best of all, it was Friday. The weekends were always great. Every other one was spent with my sons, usually at the hockey rink. (They rock!!) Other weekends were spent with my friends. (I have more in real life than I do on myspace.
This one particular Friday night I was hanging out with a friend of mine, we always had fun together. Still unsure what our plans for the evening were, we dressed semi-casual in fashionable jeans and cute shirts that gently hugged our curves. (I think her shirt was much cuter but that was o.k. I had the curves she was lacking in that much cuter shirt!)
We were both single moms so we felt we deserved a night out on the town every now and then. This particular Friday night we…no, she had an idea.
“Lets go shopping.”
“Oh.” I said, “For what?”
She has got to be flippin’ kidding me. I did not get all fancied up in my fashionable jeans and cute shirts that gently hugged my curves to go to Ralphs. What could she possibly need tonight? Shampoo, to wash out all that goop she used in her hair to get that ‘just rolled out of bed’ look? Oatmeal, to eat in the morning to soothe her potential hangover? Maybe she didn’t want to go to Ralphs at all, maybe she wanted to go to a mall. Maybe she was jealous of my curves and wanted to get an even cuter shirt!
“What kind of stuff?” I asked with much hesitation.
Oh, great….that’s even worse.
“You want to go to Toys-R-Us?” I asked
“No silly, toys…TOYS!”
“Ummm, for who?”
O.K. I am completely oblivious to where this conversation is going. What kind of toy does she need? Can’t she do this on her own time?
Toys…TOYS, oh dear God am I slow!
“Are you game?” (no pun intended)
“Ummm, where?” As I envision a dark seedy looking shack with a dark, velvet curtain that shields you as you enter. One that would have a perverted looking sales clerk, lurking at your every move.
“Trust me,” she says
Now as hesitant as I am, I am now also very curious and intrigued by her sleeze ball idea. So off we went on our adventure!
We arrived at a little shopping mall, all the stores looked decent and very well lit. Good sign! We got out of our car and made it to the entrance…alive. Another good sign! We walked in to what I would describe as the Nordstroms of ‘toy’ stores. It was very tastefully decorated. Sales clerks were dressed pretty reserved…considering.
“She wants a toy!” I immediately informed the first person I encountered, who by the way did not even work there.
“Nice” she replied as she looked at me with much confusion.
As my friend continued her shopping adventure, I wandered around in the “R” section. (Maybe R+) They had pretty, little nighties. Some interesting lotions, oh and handcuffs (?) Those must be for the customers that get out of control….oh dear God, please let my friend behave herself!!
She soon caught up with me in the “R+” section.
“O.k., good,” as my face turned redder than any boa in there. I had minimum curiosity about what IT actually was.
We safely made it back to her car, me, my friend and IT. We then decided to hit a local hot-spot, (no pun intended) have a few appetizers, cocktails and shake our groove thang!! As usual we ran into a few friends, a few acquaintances and made a few new friends. We were having so much fun, I had forgotten about IT! We danced into the wee morning hours.
So, now it’s time to leave the local hot-spot. Of course being two girls in fashionable jeans and cute shirts that gently hugged our curves we could not chance walking out to the car alone, so a few of our new and old friends offered to walk us out! What nice friends we have!
We all made our way out to the sparsly filled parking lot and found our way to the car.
It was late and I was anxious to get home and get a good night sleep. My friend was anxious to get home too, probably for different reasons though, she had a new friend, she had IT!
We said our good-byes, chit-chatted and laughed some but now I’m getting irritated. Enough is enough, I am tired and all I want to do is take my fashionable jeans and cute shirt that gently hugged my curves off, put my jammies on and sleep! I decided that maybe if I get in the car (I was riding shot-gun) they would all get the hint, including my friend and we could leave.
I said my good-byes to my irritating friends, old and new, and opened the door to climb in. What happened next could not have happened the way it did even if it was orchrastrated. Not in a million years. Not Ever. Something Criss Angel could never pull off. It was as if it happened in slow motion. O h . . . n o ! ! . . . k e r – p l u n k. . . w h a t . . . t h e . . . f r e a k . . . s h o o t . . . m e . . . n o w ! !
Some how, some way, when I opened the door IT fell out…on to the ground. Oh IT didn’t just fall out in a decieving brown bag or a cute little shopping bag. IT flippin’ fell out of the bag. IT was just laying in full view of everyone, in the group, in the parking lot, in the world. My friend did not miss a beat,
“Heidi, oh my gosh, aren’t you embarrassed?” as she laughed hysterically.
Ummm…embarrassed, no, horrified, yes!!!
Chapter 7 Who Am I?What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.
I can share this one time, just between you and me!
So, get this. I was in Sin City for a concert, (o.k…I am a Parrot Head)
I spent the day by the hotel pool, evenly tanned in my micro bikini.) I had a couple Margaritas –maybe more- It was a nice, Sunny Afternoon and luckily the pool sported two water slides. A whoop-dee-do one and a whoa-that-was-scary one. There were kids of all ages enjoying every little bump, curve and drop. Then there was me and some friends, Fruitcakes who had consumed a couple Margaritas –maybe more- right behind those kids. I think at one point there were more adults than kids. But after a couple Margaritas –maybe more- it’s hard to say.
After our thrilling adventure by the pool, it was time to unwind our evenly tanned bodies and get a nap in before the concert. Bare in mind mine was a voluntary nap, unlike others who at this point had had too many Margaritas, whoop-dee-do’s, whoa-that-was-scary, bumps, curves and drops. They just plain, passed out.
It’s time to go to the concert. We head out for a Cheeseburger In Paradise and then to Margaritaville for Boat Drinks. Finally…we prepare to move our Fins to the Left and Fins to the Right.
I had on a cute, (really cute, I think I got it on sale at Nordstrom’s) black sundress and some trendy, little, black, strappy sandals. (Those were really cute too; I can’t remember where I got those. I do remember though they were a slightly darker shade than the dress. It’s so hard to match blacks just right, you know what I mean? Oh my gosh, whites are the same way. One time, I was getting…hmm….never mind.) Again, I was also evenly tanned.
Who cares you ask? Hell if I know, but it could solve this on going mystery.
As we approached the concert, anticipating the beat of Six String Music. We are preceded by Uncle John’s Band, so you could probably imagine the line is pretty long! Since we are true Parrot Heads and have bonafied tickets, we decide to walk around….they can’t give our seats away!
A friend suggests, Why Don’t We Get Drunk, hello???!!! We already are. Silly friend. So we head out and about Sin City, me in my cute, really cute, black sundress and some trendy, little, black, strappy sandals. Shortly thereafter, I was approached with a request for my autograph.
It then started a chain reaction (O.K. 2 people total, maybe a link verses a chain!) I graciously obliged and like a pro scribbled my John Hancock. This, I think made my drunk friends jealous…I didn’t really care, it was all about me for those 32.822 seconds. If you ever see this for sale on ebay, grab you a copy, it is sure to be worth a pretty penny.
So who am I? I dunno, perhaps they thought I was Delaney
Me and Dude-E
It was a clear, warm, beautiful, California day. It was a day I don’t care to remember.
It was a day he would rather forget.
I will refer to him as Dude-E.
I had been at the hospital, keeping my mom and sister company as they waited for a loved one to come out of surgery. We did word finds, crossword puzzles, flipped through magazines, ( i had a secret fantasy that perhaps one clear, warm, beautiful, California day someone would be in the waiting room reading my book!) ate, talked and laughed.
Somewhere in that Hospital was Dude-E.
Our fate at this point, unknown.
Surgery was successful and my day as an ‘entertainer’ had come to an end…I was ready to leave the hospital and enjoy the rest of the clear, warm, beautiful, California day. My sister agreed to walk me out to my car as she too wanted some fresh air. I said good-bye to my mom and we made our way to the elevator. I started doing the jig on the elevator…not the oooh, watch me dance jig, more like the oh dear I gotta pee dance. Because I had about a fifteen minute drive, I decided better safe than sorry (really sorry) and found my way to the hospital restrooms.
At some point, Dude-E must have been doing the jig-e somewhere too.
The only facilities I could find had the men/woman sign on the door. Now I know that for sure because after my experience in Chapter 5, I pay attention to these things, close attention.
I talk a lot, and this day was no exception. I had found this restroom however, being in the midst of a conversation with my sister, whilst doing the jig, I entered the one person bathroom paying no attention to anything but what I was blabbering about. Ooooh I really gotta go now sis….as I shut the door I turned around and that’s when it happened.
Our eyes met, mine and Dude-E‘s.
As I stand there doing the jig, there he sat…Dude-E.
Oh and by not you probably got the picture. Dude-E was taking a doodie.
I scrambled fast, oh dear God did I scramble.
I walk (run) out, my sister giving me a ‘oh that was fast you didn’t wet your pants did you’ look.
RUN was all I could say, RUN for your life. Now my guess is Dude-E wasn’t going to chase me down but he wasn’t a small man and I did not want to take any chances. So we ran, my sister didn’t know quite why she was running but she did. We got to the elevator, I pushed every flippin’ button in sight. Twice. After what seemed like 10 minutes one opened. Clear out the gurneys…I am running from Dude-E as we pushed our way on. “Why are we running?” my sister asked between breaths. “Dude-E, I saw Dude-E” I replied, trying to catch my breath.
We both pushed every button in the elevator trying to speed it up. It opens on the second floor there stood my mom waiting to see her loved one. I explained the best I could what had happened. “Calm down, it’s o.k.” she said as she wailed with hysterics, “calm down” “I can’t calm down…I still gotta pee!!” I said as my eyes bulged further and further out. “I gotta pee and Dude-E is in the bathroom!” By now the surrounding hospital goers and staff had heard us and roared in laughter with my mom.
One very nice nurse felt my pain, and offered to lead me to a VACANT restroom.
I was now jig free but worried about how I was going to make it out to my car without running in to Dude-E. I would die. What would I say.
‘Hi?’ ‘Lock the door next time, you have now scarred me for life!’ ‘How ya feeling?’
Fortunately, I made it without incident.
I climbed into my car and drove off, enjoying the clear, warm, beautiful, California day!
It was Christmas day.
It was a few years ago, but oh how fresh it is in my mind.
My face blended well with the red lights that adorn the tree.
It started out like any other Christmas day. We were up at 6 a.m., however I was awake at 4 a.m. pacing the bedroom floor anxious to see what Santa had brought me, I mean the kids. After all was said and done, (by the way I got squat that year!) we ate breakfast, (Costco muffins, I refused to cook after getting squat!) we showered and headed off to my parents for our traditional Christmas dinner.
For some reason, I’m thinking every flippin’ relative I have was there. From siblings to my aunt’s cousins step-daughters nephew. One person was too many that day, in a minute you’ll understand why. Relax…I’m getting there.
Too cool to hang with the old folks, my son and nephew (not my aunt’s cousins step-daughters nephew) sat in front of the stereo talking…I assume about boy/men ‘stuff.’ They, for whatever reason decided to call a radio station to request a song. No harm in that right? Except the D.J. completely blew them off over and over again and continued playing Tra-La-La-La-La songs. It is Christmas after all, even though I got squat at least the Christmas music is keeping me in the spirit.
Now they have a brilliant idea,
“Mom, you’re a girl(?) you call…he’ll listen to you!”
Tis the season, I can’t say no. I was still hoping for that present after all, so I agreed. As I start to dial I ask what song they wanted me to request.
“Big Balls by AC/DC.”
“Come again…..you want to hear what????”
(I can’t believe I am admitting this on the WWW) Being the cool mom I am….I continued with the phone call. (all the while in th background my mom is informing us it is almost time to eat.) (I brought my leftover Costco muffins.) (Blueberry)
“Merry Christmas, KXXX Radio”
“Hi…um, I wanted to request a song?”
“Wow, you have a sexy voice…”
So now I am walk to a back room for privacy, this wasn’t going to be an easy call. Blushing like a 14 year old girl who was talking to a boy for the first time, I continue.
“I do?” I mean “I do!!”
“You sound hot!”
“Naw…giggle, giggle,” as I take a quick glance at the mirror.
“I bet you have a lot of boyfriends.”
Thinking about my then husband I replied, “Naw” as I break out in a heat flash.
Now bear in mind I am doing this for the sake of the kids, it had nothing to do with getting my ego stroked…..even a little.
“But I do have a song request!”
“Oh, yes….anything, what can I play for you?”
Oh gees Louise, now I have to verbalize this song to this raunchy D.J. dude, “Um….Big Balls by…”
“Oh you tiger, I know who sings that”
“It’s for my kids.”
“Sure it is honey.”
I scream. Not the someone help me scream, but the scream of a 14 year old who who has just talk to a boy for the first time!
“Thank you so much!”
“Anytime hot mama.” (o.k. thats a lie, but he did say o.k.!)
Click. I hung up to the calling of my mom who informed me they are waiting on me.
“Sorry, I had an important call to make,” as I wink at the kids its a done deal.
Now my mom tells us to turn the stereo off so we can say Grace. Does she not have a clue what I just subjected myself to. Can she not see the 8 shades of red that still adorns my face? So…just as my son approaches the stereo you hear the screams of a 14 year old girl from those big Hi Fi speakers. Not the someone help me scream, but the scream of a 14 year old who who has just talk to a boy for the first time!
It was a familiar scream.
It was my scream. (but who cares…really no one knows it’s me…and it was just a scream)
From there on out everything was in s l o w m o t i o n.
My family, now standing in a circle holding hands can’t possibly reconize the scream. But before my son hit the button my conversation with this raunchy D.J. dude proceeding the scream, played in full. You could hear a pin drop. I take a quick glance at my then husband, who’s expression confirmed still, I am getting squat for Christmas. The conversation which seemed to last forever finally ended. I try to play it off, but they knew, they all knew.
The kids are laughing hysterically.
My mom used my middle name.
It was on thing I acted like a 14 year giddy girl flirting with a raunchy D.J. dude, it was a whole different story I was calling to request Big Balls. My phone rings, it rings again….and again. Seems everybody was tuned in to KXXX this wonderful Christmas morning. Sweet, innocent Heidi’s cover had been blown. Some have never acknowledged the incident since, others…well, I will never hear the end of it.
So did he ever play Big Balls? How could he resist such a sexy voice! So I did get squat after all…I got my 15 seconds of fame!
Merry Christmas kids.