I won’t deny it, I am a wee bit of a rubbernecker. Yes, I know I shouldn’t do this, but, you know, I shouldn’t watch the Bachelor either…and you know how well *that* one works out for me.

When I see giant backups on the highway, I am ever-so-thankful that the accident wasn’t mine. I did that once twice, thankyouverymuch, and it was not a situation I care to be in again. Also, I have weird fears about being in accidents. You know, I don’t worry about my health and safety, like a normal person. Oh no. I worry about whether or not the person pulling me from my vehicle would judge me for not wearing underpants. No really.

Wait, it gets better. I also worry about the impact forcing the seatbelt to empty my bladder or possibly make it explode. SIGH. Folks, I am afraid of peeing myself in front of paramedics. Don’t even get me started on my fear of tampons while driving. You don’t even want to know.

So, while I have my neck and head strained to look at the damage across the highway, I start to imagine what caused their accident. Tire blowouts. Heart attacks. Animals. Falling asleep at the wheel. Texting-while-driving (Like you didn’t see that Oprah too…)

Or, you know, something totally normal. Like a milkshake explosion.

Whatever. You think nothing of hitting the Chick-Fil-A (dwarf house, ftw!) drive-thru for a healthy lunch of waffle fries and a cookies-and-cream milkshake. And then you get distracted and drive the wrong way on a one-way street. And then you get on I-85 with some precious cargo in tow and the lid pops off of your overstuffed shake and suddenly there is delicious goodness everywhere. On the steering wheel, the cup holders, the lap, the door. And while you try to wipe yourself down with a combination of baby wipes and your own tongue, your cargo is pretty sure they are safer walking back to Sandy Springs than staying in the car with you and your 790 calories of dangerous tastiness.

And while I was reassuring her in my very best Rainman…that I’m an excellent driver, all I could think about was how thankful I was that I had chosen to put on underpants and that I had peed before we left Anissa’s.

If you want to see more of me – and, I mean, obviously, you do – you can read my latest entertainment news over at Juice, my latest outfit over at The Urban Closet, my latest advice over at So You Want It, and my latest blathering over at Aiming Low.