Car Wash Take Two

‘Did you write about gumballs at the carwash?’ my husband asked while reading the paper. Still in my Saturday morning fog of trying to wake up, I wondered what he meant. Besides the facts that I rarely get my car washed and always choose chocolate over gum, I hadn’t submitted a column last week.

But, there was my picture and byline with a column. Did I have a Doublemint Twin who was writing my column while I slept? A quick call into my editor cleared up the identity of my ghost columnist. My banner had been put with Laguna Observed’s column by accident. When I mentioned that the writer Ruth Hawkins must have been upset, my editor replied, ‘It’s not the end of the world.’ Which, of course, is true. It wasn’t the end of the world, but it was confusing. As a columnist, all we have are our words and opinions. If I had written about car washes, I would have written about my birthday.

Ever since having kids, I have neglected my birthday. A single friend of mine was so mad that I didn’t throw a bash for my fortieth. She didn’t understand that all I wanted to do was eat a meal I didn’t cook and go to sleep. As my kids have grown older, my exhaustion and mommy martyrdom complex have lessened.  This year, my girlfriend organized a moms’ night out at a local restaurant. We got ourselves all fancy and headed out for some cocktails.

When my girlfriend and I arrived at the bar entrance, we were stopped by a tall man with a clipboard.

“This is a closed event with some very high profile people.” My heart leapt. Was George Clooney inside?  Or perhaps the ‘Brad Pitt bought a house in Laguna rumors’ were true?

I craned my neck attempting to see who was inside when I saw the sign, ‘The Real Housewives of Orange County Premiere Party.’ He had to be kidding. I couldn’t go inside because a television show about housewives was having a party?

“But I’m an OC Housewife…and my friends are waiting for me.”

“It’s her birthday,” my girlfriend added.

Tall Man was getting pissed. “I can not allow you inside.”

I couldn’t believe it. Here I was a real OC Housewife with real OC friends waiting to celebrate my birthday in style, and I couldn’t get in the door because I didn’t do my dirty laundry on television. This was some kind of cruel joke.

My girlfriends inside weren’t picking up their phones, so we needed plan B. I spotted a handsome soldier waiting on the lower level. If anyone could help me crack this joint, he was the man. We chatted and through a couple of quick moves, I headed up the stairs to the back part of the bar and found my friends. I phoned the plan down to the girlfriends in the parking lot and we were in. It wasn’t Mission Impossible, but it sure was fun.

Of course, the best part was when my OC housewife friends were sipping champagne next to the TV OC Housewives and Tall Man walked by and spotted me. He stood and stared, not sure what to do. I turned to my friend, who looks like she could be on TV, and laughed at her every remark. He scowled for a moment and then continued on his grumpy way.

The next day, I got my mini-van washed because high profile housewives need to have clean cars.

 

To read the mistaken column that this in response to, click here. 

Comments

[eren]

ha! that is funny. i like how you got into the joint anyway. shows you are still working those producer skills.

xoxo eren

[Catwoman]

Especially hilarious since none of the "real housewives of OC" are technically housewives, since they're either A. not married, or B. working.

So technically, you belonged in there more than they did.

[gloria z.]

The damsel in distress and the soldier comes to the rescue - boots on the ground, baby, boots on the ground!