Thursday, January 13, 2011

[ Crack Attack ]*

We have a neighbor who is just about the nicest man you will ever meet.  He was born and raised in this small Georgia town and returned to his hometown to serve as an attorney.  He is old Southern through and through.  He has the most beautiful, refined accent.  He is always in a suit (except when he is headed to the gym).  He uses grammar precisely.  His home is decorated to the finest detail of Southern taste.  He is genteel and proper.  He is exactly what you would think of when you think of the old South.

And when I talk with him I get nervous. Every stinking time.  We have lived next door to him for a year.  I have talked to him almost daily.  And still I feel awkwardly aware of every word that I say, every subject matter that I bring up. He is not pretentious by any means.  It is in my head, but his properness makes me want to be proper too. Know what I mean?  I've never been more paranoid about the correctness of my grammar than when I speak with him.

Well, last fall, I was out working in the front yard.  It was an impromptu gardening session. I had walked to the mailbox and noticed the weeds that were taking over our ivy.  I bent over and started pulling those suckers out by their roots.  (Major stress reliever. It makes me feel like Godzilla or something reeking havoc on their little weed civilization.)

I faced the street as I pulled, so that my behind was facing our house.  Because, well, my pants are way too low. Indecently low. I think they were low-rise to begin with, then we bought an old house with an old dryer that shrunk our clothes until they literally look like they belong on Barbie and Ken. If I measured the length from the crotch of this particular pair to the waistband, it would probably be about 6 inches.  And when I bend over that material becomes more like 4 inches.  And heaven knows I need more than 4 inches of material to cover my rear end. Again, totally indecent.

I digress.  Basically, when I bend over, you get mooned.

So I am playing Godzilla with some pesky weeds, when I hear David walk up behind me.  I know he is going to say something about the fact that my entire rear-end is on display.

"Stephanie..", he begins.

I decide to beat him to the punch.

With my rear proudly hoisted in the chilly air, I begin to shake it dramatically back and forth in front of his face.

My pride swells as I think of how bad this is embarrassing him.

I keep going. The bolder, the higher the shock-value, the better.

With my butt still shaking I start shouting (at the top of my lungs) what I usually shout when David comments on my wardrobe malfunctions: "CRACK ATTACK!!"

Naked butt still shaking left and right.  My head down near my knees, screaming, "Crack Attack".

(Not one of my more mature moments.)

I begin to turn around to catch a glimpse of my husband's embarrassed face, when, to my horror, I see our proper, genteel neighbor standing within a few feet of my exposed behind.

He has been repeating my name this entire time, in his proper accent no doubt, but I was so transfixed by my "crack attack" mantra that I was oblivious to it.  

As I stare blankly at our neighbor, I can see David standing on our patio in the distance.  He had seen the whole situation unfold. He later said he could not figure out why in the world I would hear our neighbor say my name and moon him and then proceed to shake my booty in his face.

I could see why that would be confusing to him.

Our neighbor almost immediately excused himself and ran off to his house.  It was days before we saw him again.

When he did finally show his face again, I made sure my bottom was fully covered.

And I can assure you, I was not so concerned with my grammar.

9 comments:

Britt said...

Well my friend, as I sit here and laugh out loud I feel the need to share that you are not alone. I have the constant crack problem in Mexico and I'm convinced that every team that builds with me has seen my crack. I'm not proud of this, it has just become about impossible to prevent it because everything I do seems to involve bending over and my shirts are too short and my pants too low. That being said, I know this is a constant problem, and well known to all of our staff. As I stood at my truck in Juarez one day I heard my friend behind me say something about my crack sticking out. However, with my butt facing towards this poverty stricken Mexican street of families that I'm there to serve, instead of pulling my pants up, I decided to put on a similar show as you did. Knowing my friend was right behind me I pulled my pants down just a little lower than they already were to get the real crack effect and ensued upon a similar dance of waving my butt back and forth. Upon completion of my dance I turned around to see the hysterical laughter upon my friend's face that I was sure was taking place. What I saw instead was only a small 7 year old Mexican child standing behind me with his jaw dropped. I'm sure he was wondering about the strange customs of the American culture and the classy white girl that came to help build him a home. My friend was standing off to the side with the same jaw dropping look on her face watching the whole thing. I'm not quite sure what kind of impact we left on the family that week or if we completely conveyed our purpose correctly. :) Here's to you Stephanie and all the other classy southern girls like us out there!

Cali and Steve VanHorn said...

Stephanie! Steve and I have tears we are laughing so hard! THANKS for sharing--i so needed to hear that one!

Rachael said...

that's the best story ever! don't worry, my crack always shows too. i even stopped buying low rise jeans and it still happens.

Kristen Keeling said...

It's a miracle! You're alive!!! I was about to send a search party to Walton Street to find you! It's been way too long since we've seen each other or talked. We need to get together soon.

Hannah D said...

Oh my goodness, Steph & Britt, you BOTH have me in tears laughing so hard! Ya'll rock & I am so blessed to know ya both :)

Hannah D said...

Oh my goodness, Steph (& Britt too!), you have me with tears in my eyes I'm laughing so hard! Ya'll rock & I am blessed to know you both :) For reals.

Melia said...

Steph,
I just love how sometimes your brain takes a leave of absence!
It's what makes you so special!

thedunns said...

oh Lord, you're too funny!! I read this through one time laughing out loud, while Richard sat beside me wondering what in the world was so funny. I then read it out loud to him & laughed even harder the 2nd time (with him laughing with me!!!) Thank you, thank you, thank you for writing these kinds of stories. You, my friend, are FUNNY!!

Amy Edwards said...

Hilarious! It reminded me of a particular post I wrote several years ago. Thought you might enjoy it since you know the parties involved quite well!

http://aedwards.wordpress.com/2007/09/24/not-one-of-my-prouder-moments/

And if I wasn't already mortified, just a few weeks after I wrote the post, Ronnie mentions (in front of the entire church) how he stumbled upon my blog when researching for a sermon. All I could think was, "Did he read just the one post or did he go back further?"

Good times!

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