Three Things I've Learned This Week

-Much to my surprise, I learned that Spanxs are more like boxers than you'd initially think:
Struggling to get into my Spanxs on Tuesday morning, my foot found its way through a hole I never knew existed. Having successfully maneuvered the body condom over my waist, I looked down to find a limp leg of fabric hanging at my side. I'd never realized that #1. you can ditch panties when wearing Spanxs #2. you don't have to play a game of tug-of-war every time you use the ladies room. Just like boxers, Spanxs have a front door...

- This week I signed up and learned how to use Car2Go:
Owning a car has never been my top priority. I could tell you that it's because I enjoy being driven, like the duchess of cambridge. Or I can be honest, and tell you that most of the money I set aside for my own car, goes to fixing the damage I've done to others. With one of our family cars in the shop, thanks to me, I decided to sign up for Car2Go. For only 38 cents a minute, I can drive one of the hundreds of Smart cars located around the Denver-Metro area. Although I'm still learning how to drive these clown cars without completely deteriorating my ego, I've learned the basics, and I must admit it's better than hitch hiking.

- I learned that my mother demanded divorce only hours after her wedding:
To preface this story, there are three very basic things you need to know about my dad. #1. He hates the heat because he hates sweat. #2 He hates socializing. #3 He hates anything and everything sticky and dirty.
On the day of my parent's wedding, it was 114 degrees in Stockton, California. The University of Pacific Church, where they exchanged their vows, had yet to install an air conditioning unit. My mom had picked out heavy pink shirts and blue polyester blazers for my dad and his groomsmen to wear. Dizzy with heat, the flower girl fainted after walking down the aisle. Shvitzing buckets at the alter was strike #1 for the infamous wedding day.
At the reception, my parents were stuck in a never-ending line. For hours they shook the hands of eager guests who had lined up to wish them well. Marinating in his sweat drenched shirt while socializing was wedding day strike #2.
Thinking he was finally home free, my dad left the reception to pull the car around. Nearing the exhausted yellow Rabbit, my dad noticed an odd luster on the windows. Grabbing the car's handle, his hand slid off the oiled knob. Running his fingers over the windshield, he realized that the car had been covered in butter. In a frantic attempt to leave the wedding, he turned on the windshield wipers only to find that it made the mess worse. Forced to drive with his head out the window, he picked up my mom in a belligerent fit. Over socialized, hot, and covered in butter, my dad had a momentous melt down as he drove my mother through a carwash. Sitting in the passenger seat, still wearing her wedding dress, my mother watched the mops rub against the buttered windows while my dad endlessly complained about their wedding day. By the time they reached their San Francisco destination, my mother had asked for a divorce.