He Promised NOT to Steal Our Kidneys, Just Get In!

I was tickled my ten year-old “lucky pants” still fit and I could wear them to the concert.  But…there are no pockets on the butt?  I don’t remember them not having pockets.  I spun around many times in front of the mirror.  Did we not have pockets on our butts ten years ago?

Ten years ago my butt didn’t need pockets but this new, old butt needs pockets to break up the junk in my trunk.  Confuse them is what I always say, use ruching, scarfs, a cardigan, a blazer, blinking light on my forehead.  Not not really a blinking light but if I can’t get this tube top you wear around your waist to take off as the “next thing” or a “belly warmer” as I call it, I may start wearing an orange traffic cone as a hat.  My number one piece of fashion advice…distract.  I am always trying to distract from my belly and my butt.

My lucky python plastic pants have no pockets to break up my rear.  They went back in the closet to trigger the memories of when I could run away with a rockband, (The Barenaked Ladies.)  Stop being jealous! 😉

I wore regular old blue jeans.  Here we are having drinks at a fine establishment (pool hall.)  Notice that I am not dancing on the bar, (if you don’t know what I am talking about wait for it at the end.)

Here we are with one of those mustache pacifiers all of the babies are sporting on Pinterest.

The problem came up when we went to leave the pool hall.  We had a driver pick us up at home and drive us 40 minutes to the concert.  He dropped us off by the coliseum so we could walk around and eat and have a few cocktails.  He would come back later and get us.  We just had to walk several several blocks to the actual venue.  This is not a problem.

The problem was when the husbands were paying the bill and we girls walked out front and stood under the awning we saw the impending doom that was heading towards us.  It was the ugliest thunderstorm and it was about to unleash on us.

I have feathers in my hair!  They are going to get wet.  I want to look good when the band begs me to run off with them.

Why the hell didn’t I wear the PLASTIC python pants?  The lucky pants are waterproof!

The other girls began walking to try and beat the rain but I saw the sprinkles the size of saucers.  I stayed and looked around at the people at the tables under the awning.  I looked over at a bushy, bearded kid in his early 20’s and said, “Do you have a car?”

My girlfriends are now dodging back under the awning.

He laughs at me.

I’m like, “No, totally serious.  I will pay you twenty bucks to drive us there to the concert.”  I point to the coliseum.

My girlfriends are now laughing at me.  I ignore them as I am negotiating a deal.

I ask, “What kind of car do you drive?”

He says, “An old explorer.”

I say, “Oh good, then the guys can come too.  Do you promise to not steal our kidneys?”

He says, “I will NOT steal your kidney.  I will pull around and get you.”

Just then the husbands come out and look up at the sky and voice their dismay over letting our driver leave and announce there are zero cabs around.  Then they take charge and tell us ladies to make a run for it.

The entire last paragraph was said while I rolled my eyes.  Thank you Captain Obvious.

Men don’t wear tight jeans and platform, high heels.  They certainly would not be able to run in them uphill in the driving rain and they would not mess up their hair that they put all the cutest little feathered clips in.

I tell the husbands that I have this sweet, hippie kid taking us and I am paying him $20.

Then men start walking in the rain.  They yell back for the girls to come on and tell me I am not getting into a car with a stranger.

The other girls start running after their husbands.

I do not.

I yell out that I am a good judge of character and he promised to NOT steal our kidneys!

The men yell back that it is crazy and for me to hurry up.

I yell out I will take my chances with my cute hippie.

The rain turned into a monsoon.

My husband yells, “I am going with Abbie!” and runs back under the awning.

The the rest of the men follow.

The hippie kid pulls right under the awning to get us.  As he drives past us we read his license plate…


No one kills people or even steals kidneys with a personalized license plate that reads, “Trees Roc.”

I looked at the guys.  I said, “I told you so!”

The Hippie Kid had to move his tennis racquet and golf clubs to make room for us all int eh suburban.  I think he is a tortured soul.

My feather clips gave me hours worth of entertainment.  I clipped them onto unsuspecting people at the concert to give the a “rat tail” and then took their picture.

Sometimes you just have to trust someone.

Or not, judging from my photos of strangers.

How about you?  Do you get out and pretend your not a mom or a dad once in a while?  It’s just for a few hours!

This is my previous post about my lucky pants…


My Lucky Pants…

“Do you want to go to the Van Halen Concert?” my husband asks me over the phone a couple of weeks ago.

I am thinking about where I will be at mentally Saturday with the three boys and the never ending “hillbilly hand-fishing” swamp clothing I have been washing and and say quickly, “YES!”

Then I scramble, as I have to act like I know something about Van Halen.  I need to be worthy of a big night out.  Like, I know that I have listened to a lot of Van Halen and that they were a hair band from the 90’s.  The music all kind of runs together for me.  It’s the music we listened to while drinking crappy beer, down a country road with a make shift bonfire during my teen years. It doesn’t matter!  Mamma needs to get the heck out of the house.

“Valerie Bertanelli!  Valerie Bertanelli!  Wasn’t one of them married to Valerie Bertanelli?”  I shout this as if I have Tourettes to Jim over the phone.

“Oh yeah, your right.”  Jim sounds impressed that I could rustle something up to say.  He knows me so well.

“Well you better be careful he doesn’t try and scoop me up because I am totally his type!”  

I am already thinking about getting “The Pants” out to wear.

I have these pants my sister bought me somewhere on clearance as a joke.  I showed her.   I wore them to her bachelorette party ten years ago. They are awesome.  They are python and plastic and PERFECT for a Van Halen concert.

And they are lucky.  Not in a “get lucky” way but in an even better way.

They are my Lucky Brush with a Rockstar Pants.”

They are the pants I had on when I could have thrown caution to the wind and run away forever with a famous rock band. I even tell my kids the story.  It is good they know I have options.  They even know I was married at the time AND they were already born.

These kids have to hear it every time one of their songs come on the radio and my kids friends moms have to hear my kids tell the story when it comes on in their SUV.

These pants have made me a legend among sixth graders, in my community, on my street and living in my house.  That is why they are better than a “get lucky” anything.

You usually don’t get to tell a sex story on a mom blog but my lucky pants are giving me, yet another, chance to tell the story about how I almost ran away with…

“The Barenaked Ladies”

Don’t be a hater.  You know your just jealous and I am pretty sure at least one of them has “A Millions Dollars” by now.

It was Toledo, Ohio and I had orchestrated my sisters “Princess Barbie Bachelorette Party Bus.”  We were club hopping in the “Glass City.”

We ended up at a Banana Joe’s.  It is the kind of fine establishment that ENCOURAGES dancing on the bar.

I don’t know about you but I was sick of people telling me to “get down” off of bars.

So there I was rocking my python print pants and bronze high heels on the bar and the DJ starts playing, “If I had a Million Dollars.” by “The Ladies.”  It was a different version than the song you hear on the radio.  I was the only one who knew the words.  I knew the words because I had recently walked in a walk-a-thon and won a radio station copy of one of their CD‘s with live cuts on it.  The same live cut of “Million Dollars” that they were playing.

During the song a guy called me down off the bar, (here we go again, I thought I could dance on the bar here) and asks me how I know the words to this version and he asks me to come and hang out with him and his friends. He points over to a table in a corner off to itself by the bar and the group of guys waved me over.

Just then I realized the bachelorette party needed to book it out of there.  I had an entire night of bar hopping and the next club was holding parking in front for us to pull up in the “Barbie Bus!”

I told the guy he was too cute and his friends looked really nice and that normally it would be fun but I had to go with my group.

They yelled, “No stay.”

I said, “I’m soooo married and I have twin babies at home and y’all are too sweet.” Then I hear someone yell, “Oh my God it’s the Bare Naked Ladies!!!!” and everyone looks and points at the table of the “too cute, super sweet guys.”

Then I realize…


I walked towards the piano bar at the entrance where the “Barbie Bus” is waiting out front for us. But first…

I hopped up on the dueling pianos by the front window and

danced to one last song!

These pants are legendary! I dug them out and tried them on.


Have you saved an article of clothing just because of fond memories.  What luck has it brought you?

If you want to hear more click the “Follow Me” button above.  You may even enjoy one of my former stories like…

Unicorn Horn or Extra Finger? https://allthatmakesyou.wordpress.com/2012/03/30/unicorn-horn-or-an-extra-finger/