The Story

I promised you the story that had me in tears when my roommates and I had our night out. It probably isn't that funny to anyone who wasn't there. (Megan, Laura, Ashlee, this is for you). But Kate's two year old often requests it as his bed time story, so maybe someone else will enjoy it, too. One thing is for certain. I didn't realize just how incriminating this story was until I saw it in black and white. My only defense is that I was 18. Now, at 28, I certainly do not find mooning to be an enjoyable or acceptable activity. But it does still make me cry from laughing.

From the words of Kate:

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon in our Heritage Hall apartment. Ella and I were going a little stir-crazy, so we started making fun of eachother. After Ella ran out of comebacks, she resorted to mooning me. I was spared the visual assault by a plastic bag on the table that obstructed the moonage. "Nice try," I said, and then laughed at her unsuccessful attempt. But I sobered up when I realized she would not stop until I paid the price. I made a beeline down the hall, with Ella a few steps behind. If only I could make it to our neighbor's apartment, I knew I would be safe! These sweet neighbors were the Molly-est of Mormons, and would never degenerate to such heathen behavior as mooning, and I knew that even their presence would curb that kind of behavior in others. Surely Ella would not moon me there! I sprinted as I've never sprinted before, with Ella hot on my heels. Breathlessly, I flung open the door to their apartment, my door to safety, and I yelled: "Sanctuary!!" At that precise moment, Ella, ever so slyly--and unbeknownst to anyone--gave a gentle tug on my skirt, which promptly fell down to my ankles. My outburst interrupted the neighbors' peaceful apartment dinner, in which their equally virtuous brothers were also partaking. For a few awkward and exposed seconds, I stared dumbly at their disturbed expressions. What might have possessed a person to run into anothers' home with their skirt down around their ankles, panties on display, yelling "Sanctuary!"? Ella (and her butt). She had fled the scene, and so I was left alone in my humiliation. I pulled up my skirt, mumbled an apology, and retreated.

Thanks for the memories, Kate!