We've all been there, right?
We're just having a simple girl-talk conversation with our bestie. She is explaining this new, er, "position" that she's caught wind of, and, you know, wants to pass it along for when I find my feller someday. To be fair, we were both technically unencumbered at the time. Me, freshly divorced and in my "taking some time off" season, she, well, I PROMISED I WOULDN'T TALK ABOUT IT.
We know some stuff about each other.
I mean, sweet Mary and Joseph, we MET under suspect circumstances whilst attending a rural Arizona high school. We were two ships passing in the night at a future Stanford graduate's house where about fifty of our closest friends were making some unauthorized version of Sex on the Beach (it's a DRINK) in a bathtub. Also known as a high school party, 90's version. I think we waved "hi" in the hallway while sipping bathtub juice and became fast friends on MySpace like ten years later. The rest of the story will come out some day. Maybe.
The bathtub drinking made it abundantly clear that sanitary practices elude high school students. Or maybe that's just more evidence that our town is TRULY the #1 least educated in the country. Maybe the fact that we made mixed drinks in bathtubs in 1994 was what landed us on the list in the first place.
I'm totally not making this up. Proof That I'm Not Lying.
Anyway, fast-forwarding to 2013, the explaining is taking place:
"So I think the leg goes like, here," she says, somewhat bewildered but yet intrigued, doing what looks like a cheerleader stunt move in stretchy pants in my living room.
"And the other one," she is now contorting into some position that looks equally unsexy and horribly uncomfortable, not to mention a poor plan for procreation, if that's the end game. I suspect not.
I guess she could tell by my "Seriously, right now?" face that I wasn't picking up what she was putting down. Dragging me to the kitchen by the wrist, she grabs some paper and a pen and goes to work.
"Now, LOOK," she explains, as though mapping out an equation for quantum physics (which, according to the drawing, may actually be simpler), "Do you see it now?"
And suddenly, the visual springs to life. "I get it!" I exclaim triumphantly, yet knowing that I will probably never implement these moves because I'm not rubber. I pick up the paper and go to flip it over and instantly shriek in horror. I place the paper the non-pornographic side up and at the same time, it registers with Bestie.
"OH MY GOD I DREW STICK FIGURE PORN ON YOUR KIDS' HOMEWORK!"
"Yes! YES! OH, I'M TRULY GOING TO BURN FOR THIS ONE! WHAT MOTHER LETS HER FRIEND DRAW NAKED STICK FIGURES ON A FIRST GRADER'S HOMEWORK?!"
"Doesn't she go to a Christian school, too? OH GOD."
"YES! And her teacher is pushing EIGHTY. She's NOT going to like STICK PORN on her worksheets!"
"What do we do?!" we both ask, our eyes wide and meeting, searching for solutions. Bestie picks up the pen and grabs the paper.
"I know! We'll just make it into something else!"
"What in the hell are you going to make THAT into? How are you going to covert a stick figure human wheelbarrow into Christian school appropriate non-stickporn?"
She quietly went to work.
The next day, my daughter triumphantly turned in her homework along with graphics of her new favorite character "Octy the Octopus", and she and her classmates running a really cool marathon.
And THAT, my dear friends, is how you cover your tracks when your Bestie accidentally draws stick figure porn on your kids' homework.
It happens to all of us, right?