I Feel So Dirty

Like everyone, I remember all of my significant "firsts" -- first love, first time riding a bike, first felony charge (okay, not really, but that makes me seem all exciting and dangerous, doesn't it?), and first time realizing that based on your upbringing, there might not be enough alcohol in the world...

Back Story : One December, my sister and I had come home from college for Christmas break. We rented a movie and went into the family room to play it, when we discovered that the VCR had (mysteriously) been moved into my parents' bedroom while we were away. So we went into their bedroom to watch it. My sister tried to put the video into the player and it wouldn't go in...so she pressed the eject button and out popped Talk Dirty to Me...part 3. While I was trying to shove the movie back in the VCR and get the hell out of there, my sister screamed, "Hey, mom, was this better than Talk Dirty to Me parts 1 and 2?"

In her absolute refusal to take any responsibility for such a thing, my mom blamed it all on my father -- claiming that he was the one who bought the video and wanted to watch it. And to support her assertion that he was the deviant, she also shared with us the story about their naked car wash (which also occurred while we were away at college. My college activities sure seemed tame in comparison).

Family lore has it that one night my dad figured it would be a thrill to drive to the car wash about a mile away from their house and go through it with no clothes on (please do not look to me for explanation) and somehow almost convinced my mom to do the same. At the very last minute, my mother decided that she'd wear her robe, but he was completely naked. They drove to the car wash, put the coin in the slot (not a euphemism) and drove into the car wash booth. The car wash started (with all those sexy lights and sensual streams of water...seriously, dad?)...then abruptly stopped. It simply broke down. And a light came on that said "Wait for Attendant." And an attendant was beginning to walk toward them. And because they were caught in a situation that might not have been that easy to explain to the car wash attendant, my father did the only thing he could do. He stepped on the gas, drove over the metal frame surrounding the car (apparently creating quite a commotion as he did it) and sped out of the car wash as fast as he could.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got my therapist on speed dial...