Gas-O-LINE

I am heading to happy hour after work and realize I desperately needed gas.  I drive to the gas station closest to my office (it happens to be the most expensive in Dallas, but whatev, too much energy to drive down to the next one).  When my tank was full, I pull out the pump and the gas is still going, proceeding to spray ALL over me.  Typical. 

Oh well!  To happy hour I go…nothing like showing up to the Ritz Carlton for happy hour smelling like a gas tank.  As I am pulling up, I realize I need to let the valet know why my car smells of gasoline so he won’t think my car is broken.  The Ritz knows what they are doing as far as customer service goes.  Five pretty attractive guys lined up ready for valet action are waiting for me.  My door is promptly opened.  I step out in my cutest pumps.  I scrunch up my nose with an embarrassed look on my face and as a serious as a heart attack say, “It smells really bad of gas in there” while waving my hand in front of my nose.  It takes me a second to realize what I have said.  Their look of shock and not quickly jumping into the driver seat clue me in.  “Gas-O-LINE” I belt out and quickly scurry inside and order the stiffest martini on the menu!

Yes, yes, the adventures of Lolo!  They will be new for you, but we have been living with them our entire life.