That would’ve been a bad porno

Yesterday my husband left.

Oh, don’t get all concerned for me; my husband just left for a business trip to England.

So yesterday he left for his trip, and had also scheduled a repair call from our internet provider. The internet’s been spotty (at best) for a week now, and we all know I can’t survive without it, so here I sat waiting for the repair tech to arrive and see if it could be easily fixed.

When he arrived, I was sitting watching tv with my two-year-old son. Wearing what I like to consider my “inside-only outfit”: a pair of ugly jeans and a t-shirt that’s all stretched out. (I’d like to point out that I DID have my awesome Bluth’s Original Frozen Banana shirt on earlier in the day, but thanks to Mason snotting all over it, I had changed into that ugly black t-shirt.) I answered the door, let the guy in, and then realized half my left boob was exposed. I was wearing a bra, of course. (I say “of course” as though I always wear one around the house, but the truth is I should say, “THANK GOD” because often I just really go all to hell when I’m home alone.)

Him: Hi, Mrs. Durrell?
Me: Yup, come on in.
Him: If you can just show me where your box is, I’ll see if I can diagnose the problem.
(oh my god, it’s already getting awkward!)
Me: (realizing my boob situation) Oh! Oh. Oh man, that’s embarrassing. (pulling up my t-shirt neckline and grabbing the cardigan I’d had on early in the day) Come on downstairs.

I lead the guy into the basement laundry room. . .

. . . where he walks face-first into the bra that my husband hung to dry from the ceiling hook, that I CAN’T REACH.

Me: Oh my god. I’m sorry. I can’t even reach that to move it. Hang on, I’ll go up and get a stool to stand on. Oh my god. This is embarrassing.

(At this point, I can tell I’m bright red with embarrassment and dying inside.)

Him: That’s. . . ok. . . um. . . can I get it down for you?

I said “NO!” way too fast, and literally yanked the bra off the hook, ripping the strap in the process. I quickly pointed to the modem on the shelf.

Me: We just picked that up yesterday, so it’s not the modem.
Him: How long has it been a problem?
Me: At least a week. AndΒ I can’t wait any longer, I have work to do.
Him: You work online?

(Oh my GOD. Is this for real? I’m so embarrassed and everything sounds like a terrible double entendre.)

Me: Sort of. I write for various sites.
Him: . . .

At this point, I made it my mission to get my toddler a snack, and beelined it out of there.

I was in the playroom with Mason when the tech came out and asked me to give the internet a try and see if there was signal. It wasn’t working. He asked if I also use the something-or-other to do whatever-he-said for wifi, and come on, people, do I look technologically advanced to you?

Me: I’m really not sure. My husband does all the techie stuff around here. But he’s not here. He’s away.

Him: . . .

Me: I mean. He’s at work right now. But then going away. For a week. To England. For work.

(OH MY GOD WHY AM I TALKING?)

Me: So I obviously can call him. To ask. If you need to know. Do you need to know?

Him: No, it’s ok. Try it again?

Me: IT WORKS! OH YAY! THANK YOU!

I didn’t even walk the guy upstairs, I was so mortified by my unintentionally porny vibes.

Man, I’m such a dirty old housewife.

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Alex

33 thoughts on “That would’ve been a bad porno

  1. I just guffawed so loud that I may or may not have frightened my neighbours. πŸ˜€ Absolutely hilarious! I am *weak* with laughter!

    “(OH MY GOD! WHY AM I TALKING?)”

    Bwa ha ha! *snorks*

    Keep “not” blogging! I am really enjoying your non-blog posts!

  2. Know the feeling, not the porny vibe ones, but when the cable guy came to our house a month ago I was still in my pj’s. Luckily hubby was home so I woke him up well I ran and changed.

    1. I live in pajamas. . . those would be a lot less embarrassing for me than the crappy shirt I had on today.

  3. This is the funniest thing! It reminds me of how I feel every time the postman rings the doorbell. We usually get at least 2 visits a week, usually more (my husband might be addicted to buying cheap knick knacks for his electronics from Chinese ebay sellers). Each time I go to the door, I’m usually trying to hold the baby conveniently over my breasts, as they are usually only covered with a light t-shirt or tank top. Then I try to remember if I was wearing the same thing the last time the postman came, because that would also be likely and embarrassing.

    I hope you at least got a discount on the service call! πŸ˜‰

  4. I got like that with the dude who came to fix my oven. Yeesh. It’s like I had forgotten how to speak to the opposite sex. Loved this, love your voice.

    1. Wow, thanks, Louise. I appreciate you saying that. (About my voice, not the oven repair man. Though I love that, too. πŸ˜‰ )

  5. Was boom chicka wow wow pLyong on the radio when the doorbell rang? Also, I usually wear a white tank with no bra when I’m working. Delivery guys like it at my house.

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