So, let's just move on as if that whole first paragraph wasn't even there. But if it wasn't here, would we really be moving on or would we just be starting? Ok, I'm going to get serious now.
My car has a secret admirer. Seriously. I'm not making that up. No bait to get you hooked. Just straight up truth. On Friday I went to prison to see some clients. I parked in the middle of a parking lot and no other cars were around me. Hours later when I got back to my car, there were still no other cars nearby but someone had tossed her unmentionables towards my baby.
That black lacy thing? Not there when I left the car. I didn't feel comfortable touching it. Hygiene and germs and that kinda thing. But I can tell you it is fishnetish lace and looks like it could have been underwear that were ripped off. Maybe an inmate was released from prison and was so excited to be free that she started a striptease in the parking lot and my car just happen to be next to where the underoos landed. Or, maybe someone saw my black beauty and got all hot and bothered and tossed the underwear at the hood like the rock and roll groupies tossing their underwear on stage at concerts. Or, maybe, and most likely, it rained underwear.
And yes, I know, this type of thing doesn't happen to normal people. I must be charmed! The car, however, seems to be scarred, not charmed. A day later and it wouldn't let me take a decent picture of Dogbert. She was all tuckered out and cute and curled up into the tiniest ball of dog and I wanted to memorialize the cuteness. But noooo. The car wasn't having any of it. I let the car get molested by dirty panties and it was going to make me pay. Exhibit A: Dogbert sans half of face and muzzle. Exhibit B: Dogbert sans legs, tail and butt.
Now it could be that I am a crapass photographer and shouldn't have been trying to take pictures while I was driving. Or, it could be that the car was ticked. I'll let you decide.