Bad Day.

Redated Sunday, September 12th, 2010....

So, I cleaned out my car the other day. I really did, I swear this time. On any normal day, the inside could easily qualify for hurricane/tornado insurance. I'm awful to a car. But my car is a jerk... My jeep has stupid canvas seats that, when wet, stain terrifically. You could take the purest water in the world, or holy water, and pour it over the seat, let it dry, and find a STAIN with stupid cruddy stuff rimming the edges of it. My car's seats are satan. ---So, this morning, I woke up, blind as a f*cking bat, and put my contacts in to go look at my newly cleaned seats. I spent 3 hours on the seats alone and it took a day and a half to dry. So, I went outside and started removing stuff that I left inside from taking stuff from the Greer House to Goodwill, as well as some of the stuff that my DAD PROMISED he would take home for himself (he helped me clean the house too, which by the way, I affectionately call the "Greer House") ONLY TO FIND THAT I HAD LEFT THE FLIPPING, FLUBBING SUNROOF OPEN the night before and it had RAINED. Guess what was waiting for me when I got there? CRUDDDDDY SEATS. I wanted to cry. I didn't though. Anywho, I decided that I was going to work out in my home gym after trying numerous outfits on and finding that I should have NEVER drank the milk this morning because NOTHING FIT right. I tried on four potential outfits and nothing fit the way I wanted it to. SICK OF IT. So, I shove in Bewitched (the show) in my laptop and got on the elliptical. Then I realized that I have two baskets of clothes that NEED to be washed, but I don't have a dryer where I am, which REALLY pisses me off. In addition to this, I also have NO FOOD in the fridge, and something has to be done about it ASAP. As I'm standing lamely on the elliptical, I question whether or not I want to take a shower before going to WALMART for groceries. I also think about how I need to shave my legs and bring my bad-ass shopping bags along with me. So, 30 mindless, fruitless... did I mention "WASTED" minutes later, I get in my soiled-seated jeep and head on down to Wallyworld. As I get out of the car, I looked down at my feet. As I look down at my feet, I looked up at my legs. As I looked at my legs, I noticed tarantula hair and the fact that I forgot my bad-ass shopping bags. ANGERED, I audibly whisper-yelled "FUCK," get back in the car, and SLAM the door. As I turn on the ignition, I realize that the show I just gave outside my car had been viewed (in its entirety) by the buggy boy just a few feet away, who, when I looked up, glanced away as if he had been tending to his buggy duties the whole time. Embarassed by my behavior and my hairy legs, I smiled to insure him I wasn't fully insane. Clearly READY to get out of the parking lot, I rolled down my window, smiling, and assuringly said to the buggy boy, "It's a bad day."

::Scrambled:: (and we aren't even talking about eggs.)

I'm redating this: Friday, September 10th, 2010, because that is when it happened....

So, I'm trying to move into the house that I've been trying to move into for over 4 years now. Today, I decided--"Hey, I'm going to go clean shit out, again... for the five-billionth time." Somehow, though, even though nobody lives in it, it gets dirty and stuff magically gets displaced. I'm going to blame this on my dad or his fairweather renovation worker friends, who charge him an arm, a leg, a new car, and a mortgage payment to fix ONE EFF-ing room, and then trash it. So, I get my handywoman gloves, my little OLD trailer trash "Angel" stretch jeans, a pair of Ariat mules that could easily be passed off as cool boots as long as you didn't lift the pant leg up (I only wore them because I lost my pseudo workboots which were nothing but a pair of timberlands from 8th grade that still look new because I was a poser like everyone else who wore a pair,)...oh--and don't forget the makeup I had on and the baseball hat. My goal was to look like a HARDCORE renovation expert, as if it were my daily job. --Who knew if I had to take a trip to Lowes or Home Depot and buy a new set of handy tools. I WAS GOING TO LOOK THE PART if not BETTER. So, a few fake trips to Home Depot and 6-7 bags of trash later, I was getting ready to leave when I was spotted a mysterious VHS tape just lying on the washing machine. As I reached to throw it away, I stopped myself. CLEARLY, there was something recorded on it and it could be something good,--like an old video of a reunion, or a video of a church sermon that my grandmother went to, or a cousin getting hitched.... blah blah blah. You get the idea.... so, before just chucking it in the trash, I wanted to run it by my parents house (because they are the only people who still have a VCR player.) Anyway, I turn the surround sound up and pop this mysterious and musty VHS in the VCR. At first, everything is scrambled and the music is passionate 1990's elevator music. Immediately, I'm thinking, "Soap Opera." This is some lame-o show my grandmother tried to record. --I waited a little bit longer, because we ALL KNOW that you should never just ditch a VHS until you've looked through the whole thing, because some way or another, you could find an old show that was recorded over another and it is wise to CHECK first. Moments later, I could see a man talking on the phone, and a woman in a mock turtleneck with blonde hair and bangs through the scramble. First off, who the F*ck PRETENDS to wear a turtleneck (courtesy of Chelsea Handler)?!!! Clearly this was a soap opera. Just as I was about to turn off the VCR, I could see the scramble going up, and down, and zooming in. At that moment I saw what was a nipple, which revealed to me, that this wasn't just any soap opera. This was SOFTCORE porn, that one of my grandparents had cleverly recorded on an unmarked VHS. HOLY DILDOS, BATMAN. There was moaning and breathing through the surround sound and my parents were in the next room. I was stricken with a split second of awkwardness and shut it off ASAP. Someone... in fact, ONE of my grandparents had set aside for themselves a little HBO LATENIGHT in the 90's and I was the victim of finding out years later after they were gone.

I'm pretty sure it was my grandmother, needless to say, since she was the only one who knew (and incessantly took every opportunity to record Days of Our Lives and stupid shows, like the church channel) how to use the VCR. I'm pretty sure that it wasn't me from a time when I was a kid and used to stay over there in the afternoons. I have a horrible memory and even though I'm sure it wasn't me, I can picture myself finally finding out how to work video on demand, discovering all those "after dark" shows and recording one. Shut up, you know you would too. I'm pretty sure it wasn't me, I hope. There are a whole set of VHS tapes over there... hmm. SOMEONE is responsible.