Sunday night I dropped off my boyf at the airport for his overseas journey. His trek. His global excursion. We sat on the window ledge under the 1970's architecture that surrounded us and ceiling that promised to cave in on us were it not for the miracle of i-don't-know-what but i'd like to say buttresses? (wishing i knew more about architecture).
So canoodling. There we were, canoodling on the window ledge, being silly, and then I walked him to the security line and said our goodbyes. As I'm walking away I put my hand on my bum (as I often do for some odd reason) and feel sticky sticky gum. Yes, during the canoodling I must have sat in gum. Oh the shame.
How do you get chewing gum off your favorite pair of jeans?
Ice? no
Scraping with a knife? no
Soaking in hot water and scrubbing with the dishes brush and now you have to buy a new dishes brush? yes!
That is the story of the chewing gum incident. Moral? Don't sit on nasty surfaces. And always sit on someone's lap. The end.
1 comment:
that is no fun, but good to know the hot water and dish brush works. i once got gum stuck in my hair when i was little and cried all weekend. i thought my hair was ruined forever.
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