Things that dangle

There I was, both legs dangling.

D-A-N-G-L-I-N-G…

Dangling like that small fleshy lobe at the back of one’s throat.

Dangling like a roadrunner stuck on your bumper.

Dangling like male genitalia that gets caught in a zipper.

Dangling like the bling around Flava Flav’s neck.

Dangling like parasites hiding in a Kentucky mullet.

Dangling like Michael Jackson’s baby over a railing.

You get the point, I was dangling.

And just how did it come to pass that I should find both my legs dangling and ass bottoms up from outside my second story window? Well, I’ll tell you…

I set out early that morning, purse in one hand, dog in the other. I locked the front door and closed it tightly behind me. The very moment I heard it latch, I knew the error of my ways…

“Dagnabbit,” I screeched, as if I lived in the south and had just locked myself outta Pa’s shed.

“What the hell are we going to do now?” I mumbled in The Judge’s direction. He said nothing. He seldom does at times such as these.

My only set of keys was now locked up securely inside my hot vault of an apartment.

“Gripes!” I said, this time because my dog had decided that this would be the opportune moment to pee right there on the patio rug – as urine began dripping down upon my neighbor’s bike downstairs.

“That’s fantastic!…Can’t exactly ask HIM for help now can I, Judge?” I said, frustrated.

Knowing I couldn’t tackle the task alone, and lacking the funds to hire a professional burglar, I called my friend Stacey {whom we’ll now call Mohammad to protect the innocent}.

Mohammad arrived moments later, dressed in all black, perhaps taking the “breaking and entering” thing just a tad too far? Nonetheless, I was grateful she was there to lend a hand to her friend in need.

What happened next was short of miraculous. Within moments, Mohammad and I had gone completely MacGyver – using a Dorito, a shoe lace and a paper clip to create a time machine to take us back to the moment right before I locked my keys inside.

Okay, no. But we did use a bobby pen, an American flag stick and a pen from a hot weekend at the Four Seasons to jimmy our way into the 2nd story window of the cocoon I call home. And it was risky business, let me tell you…

We flipped the Santa Fe-style ladder that sits on my veranda (I love that word!) upside down and then proceeded to level it off at the ground level by shoving The Judge’s Tupperware dog food container underneath one of the ladder legs. Next, we slashed the hell out of the screen with the Four Season pen when it refused to bend, as we uttered phrases like, “C’mon America, we’re pledging our allegiance to you!” and “Let’s Do This America!” as we thrust and jostled the wooden stick of that American flag between the frame and the window pane.

And then it happened, in one fell swoop, the screen popped out and we shouted, “God Bless America, we’re free at last!”

I climbed carefully up each stair on that unsteady ladder making my ascent into the 2nd story window, giggling as I went because I still couldn’t believe how brilliant both Mohammed and I had become that day. Lifting my upper body up and over the window sill, I was now inside the window.

Well, almost…

I’d managed to get my head and arms inside the window before I started laughing hysterically. I literally couldn’t breath. Blood was rushing to my head and snot was dripping out of my nose. As my body bounced and shook with laughter, so did my bladder…and suddenly I feared I too would pee down upon neighbor’s bike.

“This isn’t good,” I thought. “Pull it together lady. Your ass is bottoms up and your legs are dangling. Do what you must, but hurry before every one of your neighbor’s sees you in this condition!” By the time the motivational speech to myself was over, I’d managed to propel the rest of my body through the window as my body hit the floor with a thumb.

“Ouch…but Yay!” I said. “God Bless America, indeed!”

Note:
Later that day, I decided I would reenact the body dangling events in order to capture pictures for a blog post. Unable to recruit anyone to take the pictures for me, I resorted to setting the self-timer. (Yep, that’s commitment right there!). I was trying to capture the money shot of legs dangling when I hear a dreaded voice from the other side of the fence,

“Hey, are you practicing how to break into your own home young lady?”

“Uh, no. Just wanted to know what true embarrassment felt like…”

Afterall, why swallow one’s pride when you can dangle it?”

The Bottom.
Oh, I mean, The End.