This morning, while wearing my brand new sparkling lip gloss, I witnessed a car accident. And because I was running late for volunteering at Meredith’s school, I kept driving—feeling really crappy for not stopping. Because, seriously? These twinkling (and supposedly pouting) lips need to speak out! Especially in situations where insurance companies and police officers are involved!
As I helped a few of my kindergarten friends learn the difference between 12 and 15 (those numbers are especially tricky, and probably should have been named twoteen and fiveteen), I shimmered and set the plan of calling the police the minute I got home to tell them (using my glimmering mouth) that I saw the accident, and it was totally the guy in the white truck’s fault, and I’m sorry I left the scene, and I am now ready for my community service assignment. (My new glossy lips will really pop when I match them up with an orange jumpsuit.)
After the final kindergartener was able to identify the numbers with no mistakes, I drove to Walgreens to purchase a new set of tweezers. (When your lips are like diamonds, your brows beg for a proper taming. Girl, you know it’s true.) While in the parking lot I saw that a tow truck, holding one of the cars involved in the accident, was across the street at the gas station.
I crossed the street and let my flickering lips lead the way to the tow truck guy.
Me (sparkle, sparkle): Everyone from the accident is alright, right?
Tow Truck Guy (TTG): I’m not really supposed to discuss it.
Me (with lips like shining stars): I know. BUT, I saw the whole thing. And I want to make sure that everyone knows that the guy in the white truck was 100% at fault.
TTG (sort of hypnotized by my glowing yap): Yeah. The guy in the truck knows it was his fault. He’ll be responsible for the whole deal.
Me: YoucancallmeSheila. Nothing. Okay then.