I Hate Wet Undies

Note: Originally Published 7-19-06

I have to tell you, this heat wave and I are not getting along at all.  The other day I ran my ultra-cool ScottWilliamFoley-mobile through the carwash because I was going to be seeing my dad later.  Anybody who knows Scott William Foley: The Father knows that he is very, very into clean cars.  Ever the favorite son, I wanted my cherry-red chariot looking its best for him.  However, once I got home from the cw (carwash), I realized that the dirt and grime from last winter hadn’t been washed away from my tires.  Despite the fact that I rarely wash our cars, I do have all the proper tools for such a thing (I would have made a great boy scout but for my fear of khaki shorts).  Therefore, I moseyed on into the ScottWilliamFoley-cave and got out the good old tire foam cleaner stuff.  As the weird foamy stuff was doing its thing, I realized that my rims were pretty gross as well. 

Now, I began to feel the twinge of a roaring current down my back during all this, but I stuck with it because I believe in hard work and determination.  Always have and always will.  Stay in school.  Even though my shirt now stuck to me like white on rice, like stink on smelly, I would not falter in my mission.  I broke out the paper towels, wetted them down, and wiped off all the rims.  But hey, guess what, we were leaving for the night to visit my parents, as I said, so I decided while I had a nice dehydration-thing going on and since I had the hose (or as they say in NC [North Carolina], hose pipe) out in order to wash off the remains of the strange foamy tire stuff, I should go ahead and water the flowers.  Can’t let the flowers die, you know. 

Needless to say, long story short, cutting to the quick, by the time I finished with the tires, the rims, and the flowers, I was soaked.  Soaked, I tell you!  I had to change clothes before we left for my parents’. 

I hate wet undies.

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