So I see Guru this afternoon and he has two cases of San Pell for me, plus two huge ass boxes of Nonni’s Biscotti.
The chocolate ones. I’m very excited about those. Haven’t tried that flavor yet.
I get out of my car and start bringing everything in. First case of San Pell comes out and I notice something. It’s leaking.
Yes, never a good sign. When I set it down on the porch to inspect, I discover exploded, broken bottles. Make note to self to be super careful with the next case.
Case #2. I am almost to the top porch step when the whole things gives out on me. I thankfully and quickly moved my {left} hand away so it didn’t get crushed by 12 green bottles of sparkling water.
You can imagine the explosion of that many bottles all hitting concrete. The pure range of that damn glass! My god. It flew! It was so bad that I had multiple cars stop, roll down their windows and ask if I was okay.
I was. And in situations like these, People, the only thing I know what to do is laugh. And maybe say an F this and F that or three. And be grateful for concerned neighborhood citizens, which makes me feel even better about the new ‘hood.
It took forever to clean up. My wonderful Rio came halfway through and saved the day. I’m pretty sure The BF is thoroughly annoyed with me now referring to him as Rio and “dreamy Rio” but he’ll just have to deal as I come to terms with the fact that he is a cartoon come to real life.
All this mess and I realize that there are even teeny tiny shards of sparkling green glass on my pants. How the hell that happened, I have no idea, but they were stuck on there. And it was bothering me.
So I came up with one hell of a brilliant idea. To vacuum my pants. For real. With one of the nozzle hose attachment thingies.
Worked like a charm. Till my pant leg got sucked up into the vacuum and literally almost started a fire.
Seriously, People, the entire vacuum immediately began smoking like crazy and smelled of horrible burned rubber {because I, of course, know what burned rubber smells like … I do … really}.
Somehow, The BF actually captured this in a series of pictures. As my mouth is wide opened in surprised shock/horror/humor. F bombs included in that slash.
When all was said and done, we both were laughing hysterically. Like rolling on the floor laughing. I asked if he thought there was any domesticated hope or potential in me.
“I guess there’s always hope.”
Amen to that. Though I’m not sure if he meant that in a good way or a “what the hell have I gotten myself into, this Jem chick is craaazzzaaayyyy” way.
Jem + Rio =s love.