I know itís pretty ridiculous to have a two-part rant, but I got a little out of control here, and I didnít think it was right to expose you to so much babbling at once, so I broke it into two parts. For the first part, click here.
This story is much more likely to get me thrown in jail, but here goes:
Once upon a time, in a faraway land, I was about to take a shower. This was shortly after moving into a new house, so my stuff was still strewn about randomly in various rooms, and I was still spending a lot of time searching for items that were necessary for day-to-day living.
I had gathered all of my post-shower clothes, but after stripping down and starting the water, I realized that I hadnít thought to grab a towel. Fortunately, I knew where my towels were packed, so I didnít bother with getting re-dressed to get oneóI just made the quick trip to my bedroom...you know, butt-naked.
Sorry to spring that on you, and I hope I didnít make anyone throw up, but trust meóas disturbing as it was, it was essential to the story. Also, no matter how disturbing it was, it gets worse.
So I grab my towel, and Iím heading back to the shower, and I hear a scream. Now, hearing screams while Iím naked is something that Iíve gotten used to over the years, but one of the first things I did after moving in was tack blankets over the windows until I got curtains, so I didnít think anyone could see me.
I heard the screams again and realized they were coming from my backyard. I wrapped the towel around my waist and rushed over to look out the window. I scanned my backyard and saw no one, but as soon as I dropped the make-shift curtain, I heard the shriek again. In pulling open the curtain the second time, I accidentally ripped the thumb-tacks free of the wall.
This time, I realized that the screaming wasnít actually coming from my backyard, but rather the backyard of my neighbor. The realizations started piling up rather quickly after that, so here they are, in no particular order:
1. There was a circle of Girl Scouts sitting in my neighborís backyard, and they were playing around and screaming.
2. My towel had fallen when I tried to catch the blanket/curtain as it fell from my wall.
3. I was standing stark naked, looking out my window at a troupe of Girl Scouts.
As dirty as that sounds, it feels about thirty times more dirty. And I imagine it looks about a thousand times more dirty. I grabbed my towel off the floor and raced to the bathroom, glancing guiltily over my shoulder as I ran, hoping that none of the little girls picked that moment to glance towards my window, lest they be scarred for life.
As far as I know, none of them saw me. I checked the news avidly for the next few years, checking for any stories about a troupe of Girl Scouts that suddenly turned into lesbians and/or cutters, but as far as I know, they all turned out all right.
Incidentally, hereís a little anecdote that happened the week before, and inspired the bright idea of thumb-tacking the blankets over the windows in the first place:
It was my first week in the house, I believe, and since the bedroom windows still had the Venetian blinds from the last owners, I thought I was pretty safe being nude at least in that room. I was hunting through various boxes, looking for a change of clothes to put on after bathing.
As you might expect, I am opposed to mirrors. My mother, on the other hand, loves them. Iím not sure if itís because she buys into that whole ďmakes a room look biggerĒ myth, or if she just loves the magic that is reflection, but whatever the reason, sheís a fan. She had, in fact, given me a mirror as a house-warming gift.
I just dumped it into a corner where I wouldnít have to really see it or think about it. What I didnít realize was that while I dropped it so I never had to see my own reflection, I had also unknowingly leaned it at such an angle that anyone looking through my front room window could see into my bedroom perfectly.
As I straightened up, my clothes in hand, I saw a man out on the street, staring directly in at my naked ass. I should mention that the street in front of my house was prone to heavy walking traffic, so it wasnít unusual for people to walk by. Apparently this guy had caught a glimpse of naked flesh and stopped to investigate.
I was shocked, not only by the fact that I was suddenly making eye contact with a man while I was bare-ass naked, but also by the fact that I recognized him. He had been one of my junior high coaches. Although I wouldnít be totally surprised if he had been stopping to check out a naked guy, I judged by the look of horror on his face that he had been kind of expecting to see a naked woman when I turned aroundónot a dangling penis.
This was back in my younger days, so he wasnít exposed to the pounds of fat that currently make up most of my physique, but I think he was sufficiently traumatized, anyway.
The worst part is, I had been living in this place for about a week, and had up to then been completely unaware that passers-by could see directly into my bedroom, day or night.
Thereís no telling what the poor walkers were exposed to when they casually glanced into the newly-occupied house.
I could go on and on about how glass has ruined my life over the years (and looking back, it seems like I have gone on and on), but I think this is a fine place to stop.
I hope you managed to make it this far without vomiting on your monitor, and I really, really hope you made it this far without calling the law.