...for a different kind of girl

silent surburban girl releasing her voice, not yet knowing what all she wants to say about her life and the things that make it spin. do you have to be 18 to be here? you'll know when i know.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

he shouldn't see london, he shouldn't see france...

in the event a repairman is scheduled to come to your home (sometime between 1 and 4 p.m. never before. more often than not later), let me dispense a bit of advice to you to make the man's task at your home more productive.

always pick up your panties from your bedroom floor.

be aware that a repairman may or may not wish to go into your bedroom to check the screens in your window. you won't be expecting it, of course. the windows in question are in the living room. his request to go into your bedroom will be met silently at first, for about a second, as you wonder why.

and while you're thinking what the right answer is, you'll be conducting a mental inventory of your bedroom.

and it will hit you. the panties. tossed on the floor like a pink and purple polka dot amoeba.

maybe they're not alone. maybe there are other pairs with them. the pink ones. the pale orange ones. the kicky buttery yellow pair. a couple of black pairs from when you felt "angsty."

you're not lazy. you're just trying to prove a point. yours aren't the only arms that can carry clothes down to the laundry room. but, as the pile has grown, apparently so has your failed experiment.

so let me remind you. your bedroom floor is not a laundry hamper. it is not a place where five pairs of panties should just get carelessly tossed aside until someone (but likely you) feels like picking them up and hauling them to the washing machine.

if possible, always try to get upstairs before the repairman. trip him on the stairs, yank at his back pocket. compliment his "texas...where everything is bigger" sweatshirt and how it carries the musky scent of sweaty man and marlboro lights like a delightful testosterone bouquet.

whatever you must do, do it.

you lead the calvary. there is no exceptions to this.

do not chuckle if he makes a little joke about the state of your bedroom and said laundry. it likely won't be a funny joke, and honestly there's little need to encourage him away from the task at hand.

"will you walk into my parlor?" said the spider to the fly;"'tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you may spy. the way into my parlor is up a winding stair, and i have many curious things to show when you are there." is not a clever retort to his funny remarks. it will only make him glance your way with a look that silently affirms your despair at his unexpected boudoir visit.

glance at the bureau mirror and smirk at yourself for thinking to use "boudoir," maybe give yourself a little thumbs up move, but do not congratulate yourself on using a poem as your comeback.

let me repeat that. do not quote old poetry.

be grateful the dolphin had swam away earlier that day. when he's not looking, pat yourself on the back for at least having the smarts to put away the grown up toys. then work diligently at trying to get the panties kicked under a pile of less obvious work clothes and sensible black slacks (slacks? do people even use that word anymore?!).

curse the fact that you're wearing eastland slip-ons and the clunky soles make this task a virtual impossibility. while he leans out the window to yell at his buddy waiting outside, do not stop to think "is he winking at him? is that the universal sign for 'panties on the floor! yahoo!'"

no. while he's distracted, reach down, silently and swiftly, and lift less obvious pieces of clothing up, grab what you can that you wish to hide and jam, jam, jam them out of sight.

smile nonchalantly, while halfway in an upright position and with a pair of flowery panties in your right hand, when the repairman turns around to tell you the bedroom windows are just fine. you knew they were, of course, but by now, you're close to forgetting why you have this man in your home in the first place.

until he asks to return to your living room. where he (and no panties - at least for a very long time. sigh. make a mental note to check on weekend childcare possibilities) were meant to be.

i share this advice with you as a girl in the know. heed my warnings now lest you fall victim to the cable repair man later...


Blogger Nature Girl said...

Oh how I hate the repair man visits, but that was funnier than heck!

Sunday, February 25, 2007 6:16:00 PM  
Blogger Summer Rose said...

hahahaha! that was, just too funny I'll keep that in mind, if I ever need a repair man come to my house.

Sunday, February 25, 2007 8:05:00 PM  
Blogger The Savage said...

But (no pun intended.... okay maybe just a little) what if I was the cable repair man?

Well that is true... I probably wouldn't have any interest in your panties on the floor... just the ones on your person....

Monday, February 26, 2007 5:47:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

If it were just panties on the floor of our bedroom that would be just fine. If a repair man tried to walk into our bedroom right now my wife would throw herself in front of it and threaten him with certain death should he dare to enter.

Monday, February 26, 2007 9:09:00 AM  
Blogger FTN said...

Panties! Panties! Panties!

The word "panties" appeared seven times in this post. I may or may not have counted.

And I may or may not be looking into a new career as a repairman.

As a corollary here, is the scent of musky sweat and Marlboro lights really appealling to women? Perhaps I need to work on my smells.

Monday, February 26, 2007 10:07:00 AM  
Blogger Edtime Stories said...

Bravo, poetry in panties........a wonderful tale of repairman woes.....

Monday, February 26, 2007 3:02:00 PM  
Blogger Confused Husband said...

All I could think about in this post was the episode of That 70's Show when Donna was in the "dream" world and imagining panties flying out of Erics drawers, closet and then she pulled the rope in the middle of the room. "Panties! Glorious panties!"

Excuse me. I need a moment.

Monday, February 26, 2007 10:56:00 PM  
Blogger Nanette said...

I'm still confused as to why he wanted to enter the bedroom? Did he enter any other rooms in the house that you did not anticipate? Perhaps he was hoping that you wouldn't follow him in and that he could steal some of your squirrel covers (sorry, part of my favorite line from Copy Cat).

Tuesday, February 27, 2007 2:08:00 AM  
Blogger you da mom! said...

the fact that it's modeled after an animal has steered me away from the dolphin. and rabbits, too. mine just looks like the thing it's replacing (you know what i mean).

Tuesday, February 27, 2007 12:10:00 PM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

stacie - between daily deliveries to my house and now semi-regular repairmen coming to my house, it's become a habit!

summer - seriously. do keep this in mind. i truly panicked a bit!

savage - my, my, my...

finished - the dude was faster than i and got there before i could throw myself at his feet, begging him not to enter!

ftn - here's item #368 in the quirky things about me. listen closely. i actually cringe a bit at the word 'panties.' like i cringe at the word 'vomit.'

but sometimes, you have to sell it! and should you go into cable repair, i'll be sure to ask for you to show up sometime between 1 and 4 p.m.

ed - as always, you're so very kind! though, goodness. i never considered the idea of putting forth 'poetry in panties.' though i was wearing them at the time i wrote, so i suppose...

confused - better now?!

nanette - so here i am, rereading your comment, wondering squirrel covers? what's a squirrel cover?

and then it hit me. and now i'm totally (TOTALLY) going to start using that!

ftn - look for me to edit this and include reference to my "squirrel covers" seven times. maybe eight because now i'm digging this...

youdamom - oh yes, my bloggy friend, i do know of what you speak. and i have one of those, too. though technically, it only looks like the thing it's replacing in shape alone. because it's sparkly and purple and perfect for a girly-girl.

though, goodness. if i came across a real one that was purple and sparkly, i'd probably be dropping my squirrel covers...

Tuesday, February 27, 2007 1:27:00 PM  
Blogger Desmond Jones said...

(*snort*) Squirrel covers! I get it! (*snort*)

Tuesday, February 27, 2007 1:32:00 PM  
Blogger FTN said...

Was Farmer Ted actually your repairman?

Tuesday, February 27, 2007 2:07:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I've always thought it cool to stumble upon girls undergarments. Or maybe it's the chuckles from their embarrassed reactions I like instead.


Tuesday, February 27, 2007 2:49:00 PM  
Blogger Cat said...

I am still laughing, I swear this post was too funny.

Tuesday, February 27, 2007 4:16:00 PM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

desmond - i don't know about you, but i feel like a cool kid when i *get* the insinuation!

ftn - as a matter of fact, the window guy said to me, "can i borrow your panties for 10 minutes?" and because he asked so nicely, i agreed. but later, i'm on the phone with a friend, and i'm all like, "i can't believe i gave my panties to a geek!" and she was all like, "my brother paid a dollar last night to see your underwear."

and i screamed, of course. then this cute guy came and gave them back to me, and he had a cake. and well, we all know how i like the cake and frosting thing...

nocturnal - you're totally a reaction kinda guy. i can tell!

cat - glad to give a laugh!

Tuesday, February 27, 2007 6:58:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

You know, I have totally worried about this before. When I didn't know maintanance was coming over, and my husband would say "The guy is coming over today to fix the [insert item here]" and I'm saying "Ok!" and thinking "Oh my GOD, did I leave anything out? Panties? Bras? Big purple vibrator?" Not a good feeling!

Tuesday, February 27, 2007 8:27:00 PM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

taja - you could honestly see the fear on my face when he asked about going upstairs as i mentally clicked thru my morning to remember what exactly i'd left out. praise whatever the the bullets were concealed!

Wednesday, February 28, 2007 12:45:00 AM  
Blogger Kelly said...

Hi-freakin-larious. I remember a mad dash to the bedroom to quickly shove a certain implement out of site when a repairperson was about to enter -- so glad I remember just as it was about to be exposed to the world, in all its depraved glory. Yikes. I hate repairperson visits!!

Wednesday, February 28, 2007 8:31:00 AM  
Blogger Therese in Heaven said...

I have never had a repairman see my, um, unmentionables, but my Mom stops by all the time without notice and ALWAYS seems to find a reason to use the upstairs bathroom. Naturally, it is right next to our bedroom and, while I'm a pretty neat person, can usually count on having something lacy or filmy laying on the floor in plain view...in fact, maybe its her motherly sixth sense that brings her to my door in the first place, anxious to make sure her little girl is behaving herself.

Thursday, March 01, 2007 6:31:00 PM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

kelly - this week, i have the garage door repairman coming to my house. this pleases me only in the fact that you don't need to access my bedroom to diagnose the garage situation. but honestly, i'm going to be prepared...

therese - cripes, i don't even like when my mom wants to go into my laundry room/bathroom so she can critique my day to day clothes hanging around there. i'm creeped out at the mere thought of her seeing my other, more inappropriate (in her eyes, for sure) attire!

Sunday, March 04, 2007 2:31:00 PM  

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