Moon Over Atlanta
So! Happy Wednesday! I am back in town for about six minutes, which gives me the opportunity to ask this question: Who wants to hear my most embarrassing story of the year so far? It's the sort of thing that is completely typical of me! You are forewarned!
Also, it involves a side bar. Which is: when Ziz was just a little person, she was so skinny it was hard to find pants that fit her in any meaningful way. (Not a lot has changed in this regard, because if you remember, her family nickname continues to be "Tits on Sticks." But shockingly, I digress!) Anyway, one day, she went on to kindergarten in a pair of cute little corduroys; when my mom picked her up at the end of the day, however, she found Ziz in tears, proclaiming a great hatred for her pants. When Mom asked what the problem was, Ziz explained that she had been on her way to her classroom in a long line of kids when her pants had suddenly "slud down her legs." At this point, Ziz turned to Mom and, through tears, shrieked out, "I WAS SO BARE ASSED." And Mom had to agree. And now, y'all, I know exactly how she felt.
That's a bad beginning, isn't it? Also, foreshadow-y. Like literature, only with lots more curse words.
But ANYWAY. SEE, WHAT DONE HAPPENED WAS, I was at work. And I was wearing my favorite skirt suit, which I really love[d], and which actually fits me properly, which is kind of hard to say with the majority of suits in this world. I was getting ready to go on a car trip with Cookie and a partner, and so I was trying to finish up about eleventy jillion things before we had to leave. Mister Partner had explained that we were leaving at 11:15, on the dot, and I was busting ass (theme! THEME!) to get everything accomplished before then.
So, when another partner called me at 10:45 and wanted me to get in on a conference call with a client, I said bad words in my head, but quickly picked up a pad and began hauling ass (am I overdoing it? Possibly) down the hall. Which happened to occur at the same time that the partner sitting next to me (YET ANOTHER PARTNER, because let's maximize the number of professional people involved in my bare-ass-ment) also exited his office. From behind me, I heard him clear his throat.
"Uh, Leigh," he said. "I think you got a lady problem with your skirt."
I turned around, trying to look at my rear. "What?" I asked. "Did I sit in something?" ( I am always sitting in something.)
"NO," he said, turning red. "I think you have a LADY PROBLEM. With your ZIPPER."
At the precise moment he said those words, I realized that: hello. My zipper, the one holding my skirt together, and the one that runs all the way down my backside, had split. And so the skirt had yawned entirely open, and there was my blazingly white butt, clad only partway in a pair of bikini briefs, hanging happily out of the suit, and enjoying the freedom of the law firm's hallway. I was officially Bare Assed.
"AHHHH!" I said, and immediately put my legal pad over my bottom. I stared horrified at the partner; wisely, he turned around without a word and walked directly back to his office, as if he had suddenly realized some very important work that was sitting on his desk and that did not involve full backside nudity. But then, from the other partner's office, I heard my name being called. Helplessly, and with the pad still over my backside, I hustled in there, mind racing and back to the wall, hugging it Jack-Bauer style, as if enemy forces would immediately appear and expose additional flesh to an office full of well-mannered gentlemen.
I got into the office and made an immediate beeline for the couch. As the conference call continued, I sat there, trying desperately to figure out what the hell I could do. There's a store across the street that sells women's clothing, I figured. If I can just get out of here, then I could go over there, and buy some black pants or a skirt or something. Whatever I buy, I could just wear out of the store. And if I really, really hurried, I could do all of this by 11:15.
I spent twenty minutes staring at the clock, watching the window of opportunity for re-skirting growing smaller and smaller. Finally, at 11:10, the call ended. I stood up, back still to the wall, pad again placed against my tookus.
"Leigh, I need--" began the partner. I interrupted him.
"LISTEN." I said. "MY SKIRT SPLIT OPEN. I HAVE TO LEAVE THIS OFFICE IN FIVE MINUTES. THAT IS HOW LONG I HAVE TO GET TO BROOKS BROTHERS AND BACK WEARING SOMETHING THAT DOES NOT EXPOSE ME IN AN ILLEGAL WAY."
"AHHHH!" said the Partner, who had probably wanted none of that information whatsoever. Seizing upon the obvious opportunity, I bolted.
Once I was back in the hallway, I took off my jacket and tied it around my waist. I grabbed my purse, and hollered at my assistant that "IGOTTABUYASKIRTNOW! BERIGHTBACK!" Wisely, I don't think she responded.
I rode down in the elevator, eyes on my watch. 11:11. Four minutes.
I popped out in the lobby and made a mad dash from the street. And then I stopped at the curb and considered, and these were the things I thought:
1. I work on the busiest street in downtown Atlanta.
2. They do not like it when you cross the busiest street in downtown Atlanta.
3. By "they", I mean "the police", who have recently set up camp and started ticketing jaywalkers like they are evil thieves running away with old women's purses (because, jaywalking: it's the gateway crime! One day, you're crossing in the middle of the road; next, you'll be masterminding an elaborate plot to overthrow our government. Seriously, it's how Manson got started!)
At the same time, I weighed these facts:
1. The store is DIRECTLY across the street from the office, just tantalizing in its direct route-ness;
2. My office is slap in the middle of an unusually long block, meaning that I would have to walk aaaaaaaallllllll the way to the end, then cross, then walk aaaaaalllllll the way back in order to make my booty-covering trip in a legal way;
3. It was chilly, and I was freezing my ass off (sorry! Cannot help it anymore!) with my jacket tied around my waist and wearing only a little camisole thing on top;
4. I had four minutes to complete this ENTIRE task; and also, Yeah, By The Damn Way:
5. My SKIRT is SPLIT the FUCK OPEN.
I made up my mind, looked both ways, and -- not seeing any officers of the law -- bolted across the street. And I'd almost made it, too, when I saw the telltale blue hat coming up from the escalator in the underground mall in front of me.
"Shit," I muttered, as the cop turned and looked directly at my lawless self.
"Ahem," said the cop.
For my first evasion technique, I tried smiling stupidly, finished crossing the street and kept moving toward the store, all, "It is pretty today! I am just going to go participate in some commerce! I am not a lawbreaker! I like pants!"
But he was not having it. "Come here," the officer said, motioning with his hand. I froze. And, in a split second, I knew the only thing I could do.
I turned around. I lifted my jacket. And then...I mooned the cop. On the busiest street in the city. In an attempt to avoid jailtime.
Bending over, and with my head between my legs, I hollered, "MYSKIRTSPLIT! I HAVE TO LEAVE TOWN IN FOUR MINUTES! I CANNOT SEE CLIENTS LIKE THIS AND I HAVE TO BUY PANTS NOW NOW NOW!"
As I looked upside down at the officer, wondering vaguely if it is...you know, bad to moon a policeman on Peachtree Street, he busted out laughing. "RUN!" He hollered at me, pointing at the store. "GO GO GO!"
I stood up, overwhelmed with gratitude, and waved at him as I rushed into the store. Which I descended upon like a damn hurricane, all, "PANTS! I WILL TAKE THESE! NO I DONT CARE! PLEATS MAKE NO DIFFERENCE TO ME WHATSOEVER! START RINGING THEM UP WHILE I CHANGE OVER HERE!"
Throwing a credit card at the horrified saleswoman, I was halfway out of my skirt (well, obviously. But, like, in a taking-it-off manner) before I'd even made it to the dressing room. I got the pants on in six seconds flat, and ran back to the counter so that the poor woman could wordlessly hand me the sales slip, her eyes as big as dinner plates.
"THANK YOU!" I hollered, grabbing a bag and stuffing my sad skirt inside. Then I bolted out of the store, and back to the street, where the officer was waiting, still laughing at me.
"IT IS 11:14 AND I AM WEARING PANTS!" I informed him gleefully. He agreed.
And then I turned and promptly ran across the middle of the street again, in front of God, the law, and everyone else.
"Hey, now!" hollered the officer disapprovingly. "I AM SORRY! I LOVE YOU!" I called over my shoulder. Wisely, Mister Officer did not pursue.
At precisely 11:15, I walked back into my office, out of breath and shoulders heaving, and threw the bag containing the skirt of my discontent onto the floor. And then I turned, coming face to face with Cookie and the Partner, who were, of course, right on time. Cookie looked at me.
"Were you wearing a skirt earlier?" she asked, puzzled. I just nodded and pointed at the bag. "DO NOT ASK," I advised her. And off we went to practice some law. And then I told everyone in the world what had happened to me. The end!
So, y'all, there is my story of PG-rated nudity for your Wednesday. Have some breakfast! And pants!
Now, on to the news. (Which I have kind of always wanted to say. I like living my dreams!)
***GIRLY SHOPPING BORINGNESS ALERT***
I have gotten enough emails about The Dress (which...awesome. In love with dress. Thank you, dress, for hiding evidence of fried-chicken eating!) to attempt to point y'all in the right direction, but I can't find it online anywhere. I've looked all over the place, but...no luck! It's Nicole Miller and I got it at the Bloomingdale's in Atlanta, but if someone manages to find it online, will you please post a link in the comments? I am afraid people will actually break into my house to steal it from me, such is the appreciation for this dress, and if that happens, I will have to slap a bitch. Or stick Bo on her. Whichever.
The other dresses came from Bloomingdale's and Nordstrom's respectively, and the first Kimono one was on sale for $80. Which was bargain-y! Woo!
***END OF GIRLY SHOPPING BORINGNESS ALERT***
***PEOPLE WHO COULD GIVE A SHIT ABOUT FORMALWEAR ARE INVITED TO RETURN NOW***
And, one final thing: speaking of bargain-y! I am having the first-ever sale at Shop Doxie. Which I tried to send a newsletter about, but...that ended badly. And so instead of a cute newsletter with pictures and links, roughly three trillion people got a newsletter from Leigh that included a lot of ????????????????//////////////////////////////////&ndp????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! in it. And then their eyes fell out of their heads and they sued me.
But, anyway. So I don't usually like plugging the store over here, but given my complete inability to use any other avenue to communicate these facts, I'm a-doing it anyway. I am sorry! But, sale, y'all! Everything in the whole entire store! Plus you get a free gift with every order, and let me just say that the reason I am doing this is that at this moment, I have so many boxes of cards, stickers, stationery and other assorted doxie-ness that it has taken over two bedrooms, plus it is inching its way, Blob-style, into the den and dining room, and I am beginning to sort of FREAK OUT about it. To be perfectly honest. So I made everything practically free so it could live somewhere that is not my den. Seriously, I am starting to live like a crazy person who has to tunnel through her house, and the dogs are communicating by smoke signals, and they hate me, and we can't have company over because there are CARDS and ribbon bits everywhere, and I could go on, but it is kind of getting to be a desperate situation over here, is what I am trying to communicate. Were I not filled with shame, I would show you a picture of my dining room table, and then you would make fun of me anon.
Also, hee! I said anon! I am so dorky today. Probably because it is only 8:30, so I haven't had any wine yet.
At any rate, please check it out, and have some cards or something. Also, there are magnets now! And stickers! Both are sticky. Because I am clearly a lady who likes a theme.
And that's all I got, as I have to leave for work now. Where we all sincerely hope I stay as un bare-assed as possible.
Y'all have a great week!