It happened right in front of me.
The pain. The horror. The pure entertaining, post-worthy hysteria of it all.
It was an average shopping trip to Target. The sun was shining and the sky was a lovely blue. I am sure there were birds chirping somewhere, but since I was in a parking lot sans trees and any substantial vegetation, I didn't hear any meadowlark's song.
There were three of them- three ladies who looked to be in their early sixties. They were all dressed rather cute and looked like they had just concluded a fun day out with "the girls" shopping, laughing, and maybe catching a great lunch at one of those restaurants that offers nothing but chicken entrees on the menu (and fabulous desserts.)
One of the ladies was pushing the cart, chatting with her friend. One was on her cell phone doing some serious talking. The lady pushed her cart up onto the curb in order to unload it into the SUV. Then, in one graceful Rockettes style kick, one leg flew up into the air (she may have even pointed her Keds bearing toes), the other leg buckled underneath her, as the woman's skort caught a gust of wind like a sail on the mighty sea, and her fanny landed flat on the pavement.
One friend ran to her aid. I ran over to help, too as the fallen Rockette pulled herself up, brushed herself off, with her face blushed in embarrassment, and assured us,"I'm OK! I'm OK!"
What was even more amazing is that the friend on the cell phone didn't skip a beat in her conversation as she held the phone to her ear with her shoulder, and helped her friend with the other arm. Then she said,"What we want to know is- Martha, are you wearing any underwear? That's what we really want to know. Mama always told me to wear underwear and make sure they are clean and not torn."
This information is, of course, more important than if her friend had broken anything, hit her head, or scraped her knee. I mean, she wouldn't want to be humiliated by not wearing the proper undergarments while doing a kick line dance maneuver and landing her well dressed rear flatly on the pavement in Target parking lot.
Manners and modesty first. X-rays later.
*Seinfeld- Elaine meets Mr. Pitt.
Monday, October 09, 2006
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4 comments:
Everybody's gotta have a least one friend like that who cares about the important stuff! Too cute!
I actually think about that when I put on underwear with a hole.
I SHOULD have been more careful on Saturday when I went to get my legs waxed and the ?aethestician didn't offer me a robe. (I was wearing jeans.)I don't think that my underwear were hole-y, but my shirt was quite long enough to adequately cover the muffin top I had going on.
Hey Mel, commenting on this blog is so much better than therapy!
What a sweet caring friend...;)
So funny. Since I am the Queen of Clutz I always make sure I have on undies. Besides, going commando is kinda creepy. At least for me.
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