PIG WITHOUT A BLANKET
March 22. 2006
at 21:02
Posted by Heather Duffin in The Chronicles
Comments (0)
Trackbacks (0)
View as PDF: This entry | This month | Full blog
Posted by Heather Duffin in The Chronicles
Comments (0)
Trackbacks (0)
View as PDF: This entry | This month | Full blog
Tonight I had a crazy craving for a cheeseburger. I haven't had one in a long time, and I'm thinking I must be low on iron or something because I was nurping BAD for one. I was in my pajamas because I'd stayed home from work today. I debated over whether or not to change, I mean I'm only going through the drive-thru. And then I started thinking about what happens when I wear my pajamas or other sloppy clothes...
The earliest memory of being in my pajamas in public was when my parents used to go to the drive-in and load us up into the station wagon in our pajamas. I remember at least one time where we were brought into an actual movie theater like that.
As I got older it first started with the slippers. Everyone who knows me knows I live in my slippers. I wear them a lot. I won't go out, out in them, but I once forgot I was wearing them in the morning and showed up at work about six months ago in them. In high school I drove my sister and her friends to go toilet papering in my pajamas. I'm sure I was drunk or stoned, as I typically was in high school. My friend JJ and I dropped them off while we went to go get Slurpees at 7-11, I in my footie pajamas and she in her very obvious pajamas as well. I was too messed up to care at that point though.
The next time was when I was 18. I was driving my fiancé back to his ship around 8 PM one week night. I'd just taken a shower and threw on gray, tight workout pants that started at the knee, my usual slippers, my mom's gigantic t-shirt with a huge cartoon pig on it and walked out of the house with wet hair as well. Of course within ten minutes of leaving the house, a Chevy Blazer runs me off the freeway, hit and run. Luckily there was no barrier at that time on 520 so I was able to just swerve off into the dirt median after the passenger side was smashed in. Sean jumped out of the car and flagged down someone to call the cops. I got out of the car in shock and just stood there in my giant pig shirt, slippers, tight gym pants and wet hair...kind of like a fucked up version of Jennifer Beals in Flashdance. And then it started. People started slowing down on the freeway to...help an accident victim? Nope. They slowed down to observe pig girl freezing her ass off in the median next to her totaled car. Did anyone stop? Nope. Instead they yelled, "Nice job dumb ass!" and other rude remarks. Pig girl cried as the man she loved tried to get her help on the other side of the freeway. A witness came back after chasing the man who ran us off the road and took off. A cop came and tried to stifle his laugh at Flashdance Pig Girl, and as we all filled out our accident reports in the back seat of the cop car, Sean looked at me and said, "Next time you should really put on some real clothes before you leave the house."
Between the ages of 20-23 this happened much more often. I was sober a good chunk of that time and for some reason I frequented my pajamas and sweats in public much more often. Once I showed up at my friend's house in my sweats and gigantic underwear and ended up getting together with his roommate. Another time I wore those same sweats and ended up sleeping with my friend.
Then there was the time I wore my flannel pajamas and slippers to Tony's to watch movies. We got done around 2 AM, when the bars close. I was leaving his house and saw the cop in the restaurant parking lot I was driving by. The cops in that particular area are bad and I made sure to stay right at the speed limit. I saw the cop pull out of the parking lot and get behind me a ways. The speed limit increased from 35 mph to 40 mph and I too increased my speed to match.
A block later he pulls me over. I'm so pissed! I was doing the speed limit the whole time, and being that it's 2 AM I know he's looking for a DUI. I pull into a cul-de-sac, put the car in park and hang out the window.
"What do you want?" I yell at the cop heading my way.
"Ma'am stay IN the car."
He walks up to my window and I make hand gestures as if to say, "Will you SEE I'm in my pajamas and have not obviously been in a bar?" He asks for my license & registration and I start throwing stuff out of my glove compartment to prove I'm angry. I hand him everything and he walks back to his car. He comes back to me a few minutes later and asks if I know what the speed limit is? I tell him 40. He says no, that it's 35. I tell him that no, it's 40 and it changed to 40 a block ago, and that I was DOING 35 until it turned 40 in which I THEN increased my speed to 40. He was quiet for a moment realizing he had a sober, mouthy bitch in flannel pajamas at his hands and he should just leave.
"I'm going to let you off this time. You keep your speed down," he says as he turns to walk away.
I hang back out the window, "I WOULD IF I WERE SPEEDING IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!!"
There have been many incidents over the years, but tonight as I headed out the door in my pajamas, I turned around and walked back inside my place and put on yoga pants instead of my pajama bottoms and threw on a sweat jacket over my 100% Pure Camper t-shirt. I figure it was a compromise between the two just in case, but the slippers stayed. They always stay.
As I got older it first started with the slippers. Everyone who knows me knows I live in my slippers. I wear them a lot. I won't go out, out in them, but I once forgot I was wearing them in the morning and showed up at work about six months ago in them. In high school I drove my sister and her friends to go toilet papering in my pajamas. I'm sure I was drunk or stoned, as I typically was in high school. My friend JJ and I dropped them off while we went to go get Slurpees at 7-11, I in my footie pajamas and she in her very obvious pajamas as well. I was too messed up to care at that point though.
The next time was when I was 18. I was driving my fiancé back to his ship around 8 PM one week night. I'd just taken a shower and threw on gray, tight workout pants that started at the knee, my usual slippers, my mom's gigantic t-shirt with a huge cartoon pig on it and walked out of the house with wet hair as well. Of course within ten minutes of leaving the house, a Chevy Blazer runs me off the freeway, hit and run. Luckily there was no barrier at that time on 520 so I was able to just swerve off into the dirt median after the passenger side was smashed in. Sean jumped out of the car and flagged down someone to call the cops. I got out of the car in shock and just stood there in my giant pig shirt, slippers, tight gym pants and wet hair...kind of like a fucked up version of Jennifer Beals in Flashdance. And then it started. People started slowing down on the freeway to...help an accident victim? Nope. They slowed down to observe pig girl freezing her ass off in the median next to her totaled car. Did anyone stop? Nope. Instead they yelled, "Nice job dumb ass!" and other rude remarks. Pig girl cried as the man she loved tried to get her help on the other side of the freeway. A witness came back after chasing the man who ran us off the road and took off. A cop came and tried to stifle his laugh at Flashdance Pig Girl, and as we all filled out our accident reports in the back seat of the cop car, Sean looked at me and said, "Next time you should really put on some real clothes before you leave the house."
Between the ages of 20-23 this happened much more often. I was sober a good chunk of that time and for some reason I frequented my pajamas and sweats in public much more often. Once I showed up at my friend's house in my sweats and gigantic underwear and ended up getting together with his roommate. Another time I wore those same sweats and ended up sleeping with my friend.
Then there was the time I wore my flannel pajamas and slippers to Tony's to watch movies. We got done around 2 AM, when the bars close. I was leaving his house and saw the cop in the restaurant parking lot I was driving by. The cops in that particular area are bad and I made sure to stay right at the speed limit. I saw the cop pull out of the parking lot and get behind me a ways. The speed limit increased from 35 mph to 40 mph and I too increased my speed to match.
A block later he pulls me over. I'm so pissed! I was doing the speed limit the whole time, and being that it's 2 AM I know he's looking for a DUI. I pull into a cul-de-sac, put the car in park and hang out the window.
"What do you want?" I yell at the cop heading my way.
"Ma'am stay IN the car."
He walks up to my window and I make hand gestures as if to say, "Will you SEE I'm in my pajamas and have not obviously been in a bar?" He asks for my license & registration and I start throwing stuff out of my glove compartment to prove I'm angry. I hand him everything and he walks back to his car. He comes back to me a few minutes later and asks if I know what the speed limit is? I tell him 40. He says no, that it's 35. I tell him that no, it's 40 and it changed to 40 a block ago, and that I was DOING 35 until it turned 40 in which I THEN increased my speed to 40. He was quiet for a moment realizing he had a sober, mouthy bitch in flannel pajamas at his hands and he should just leave.
"I'm going to let you off this time. You keep your speed down," he says as he turns to walk away.
I hang back out the window, "I WOULD IF I WERE SPEEDING IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!!"
There have been many incidents over the years, but tonight as I headed out the door in my pajamas, I turned around and walked back inside my place and put on yoga pants instead of my pajama bottoms and threw on a sweat jacket over my 100% Pure Camper t-shirt. I figure it was a compromise between the two just in case, but the slippers stayed. They always stay.
Trackbacks
Trackback specific URI for this entry
No Trackbacks
