But still, I do need to clear a few things up. First and foremost, I have never flashed a neighbor kid as far as I know. And I know Tanner doesn't want me telling you how he's scarred for life since I a) once thought he was Bob when he knocked on the bathroom door after I'd just turned off the shower (with the glass doors) and said "come in." Don't try to picture it, it's best for everyone if you don't. And b) once sneaked out of the master bathroom into my room to get some underwears, noticed the door was open, and went to quickly shut it just as Tanner popped in. (He popped back out in record time, too, poor thing.)
Also, that whole "Twinkies" incident is getting on my nerves. I have been caught eating any number of things in my bed during the day. It's one of my favorite places to eat, while watching tv, while folding laundry -- or pretending to fold laundry. But I have NEVER been caught eating Twinkies in my bed -- or ANYWHERE, for that matter. Eewwwww! That would be like eating....holy cow! I was trying to think of something grosser than Twinkies to use in my analogy and I couldn't! At least not that you'd understand. I could say I'd rather eat a straight up marshmallow! But that wouldn't get you right in the gag reflex, like it does me. Or that I'd be happier eating a cupcake with more frosting than cupcake! But you'd probably think that actually sounds good. Or a cinnamon bear with chocolate all over it! Ahhhh! I can't do this anymore! We're just going to have to agree to disagree about which treats are disgusting enough to convince you that I just plain wouldn't be eating such things, let alone getting caught eating them in my bed! See, I'm not trying to hide anything. I have no shame about fixing a big ol' bowl of Maple Nut ice cream, heading into my bed, cranking on some Ops, and learning about how crucial it is that I get properly fitted for a bra! I'm just saying that it would NEVER involve Twinkies, for criminy's sakes! That's just gross! So GET OVER IT, JACOB FOSTER! IT NEVER HAPPENED! Jacob Foster is Collin's 11 year old friend who started this vicious rumor in the first place, and has since embellished and perpetuated it ad nauseum. After he accused me of the whole Twinkie thing he asked how old I was going to be on my impending birthday. When I told him 39 he laughed and said, "Oh, Sister Farley! Everybody says that. How old are you really?" "No, Jacob Foster. People say they're 29, not 39, and I was not eating a Twinkie in my bed!" "Okay, Sister Farley. Whatever (snicker, snicker)." Jacob Foster remains convinced that I both eat Twinkies in my bed and am older than 39. He also thinks I'm lying about both because I'm embarrassed to admit the truth. Do I look like someone who lies to cover embarrassment? I think not.
I did, incidentally, receive a lovely Twinkie for my 39th birthday from guess who? Thoughtful little guy.
Oh, I just realized why you thought I flashed a neighbor kid, Si Foster. It wasn't a kid, okay? It was total strangers at the gym across from our house. And it was an ACCIDENT! Sheesh! I now know that you can see in a window if it's dark outside and light inside. Give me a break -- it was a long time ago. Back when I was 8 months pregnant with my second child. I just needed a towel for my shower and the laundry was on the couch by the big window. Hmmm...I'm starting to see now why I prefer to fold the stuff in my bed...