2007-09-05 - 7:44 a.m.

3 BOOBS ARE ON A PORCH, SEE...

Holy Mother Of Dave.

I just locked my fool self out of my house again!!! Only THIS time, NOOOOO ROBE. NOOOOO next door neighbor to conveniently lend a phone so I can call the local exorbitantly priced locksmith who's living fat off just such ignorance as this. No kids, I was locked out on my back porch in a flimsy blue sheath of a tank nightgown, boobs all a-juggle, hair in a "Sideshow Bob", no makeup and DID I MENTION MY BOOBS WERE OUT? Gah, I'm trembling still from the potential humiliation.

Here's the dealio. Our house...is old. When the weather changes, stuff changes. Sometimes doors shut well, sometimes they don't. This particular set of french doors opens onto our back deck, and has been in it's "I don't shut" phase for months. Because this door won't click when shut no matter how you lift, jiggle, or maneuver, we just leave it in the "locked" position. Today, it swung easily and solidly shut, and I was skaroooooed.

I grabbed the doorknob and when it didn't budge I did the natural thing. I threw myself at the door like Ren Hoek trying to get out of the Stay-Put Socks. I eventually shoved the doors inward so hard that the lock let go and the doors swung open in the most fluid and beautiful way. My boobs and I kajuggad our way back inside and basked in what a relief it was that we were not schlepping down the street in our ugly nightgown, or worse, knocking on doors. GAH! I shudder to think.

We also bitched out the doorknob with a searing monologue it will not soon forget.

So now I know I am easy pickins for rapists and murderers because one hard shove lets you in...but then the dead bolt wasn't on from the inside, either. Plus I know Kung-Doe-Jit-Su-Doh...Ju...and I'll kill you first. And then I'll curse out your corpse.

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