Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Modern Technology Ain't All It's Cracked Up To Be

I drove T-Hoe to work this morning, under the watchful eye-in-the-sky of Google Earth. I was careful not to rush through a red light in my haste. Because even in Hillmomba, we have cameras mounted on the stoplights.

When I drive in town, I make sure that I guide T-Hoe between the lines. No sweaving for me. I don't cut off others in traffic. Because you never know when somebody will hold up that phone they've been gazing at, and YouTube my bad motorist manners. It's amazing how some folks can multitask while steering a two-thousand-pound machine with one hand.

At school, I backed T-Hoe into our regular parking spot, next-to next-to last. Even so, we were within range of the roof-mounted cameras. I climbed out. Looked right and left in case Google Street View had their camera car in the vicinity. Then I walked down the long, long sidewalk to the middle of the building. That's because I have no master key, so the end doors are off limits to riffraff like me. As I stepped toward the back entrance, my surveillance was taken over by the hall camera on the wall by my room, positioned to look down that T of the entrance hall.

It's almost impossible to find a place to pull your granny panties out of a body crevice these days.


Sioux said...

I had worse than granny panties up the crack yesterday. My underwear had lost its elastic at the waist. Actually, it was a pair that never had really had any elastic--all three in the package were like that--but I kept them around for desperate times. Sometimes I imagined I could detect a whisper of elastic support.

Yesterday, thankfully I wore them with pants, because the waist of the underwear was hugging the tops of my thighs. If I had been wearing a skirt or dress, I would have been stepping out of the underwear at the beginning of the day.

What kind of similar "stuff" do men have to put up with? Nothing comparable, I contend...

Hillbilly Mom said...

Well, you don't want to go all Linda and drop a slip or shoot a girdle out of your purse.

At least my crack attack would have kept the unmentionables from slipping south.