A story to end all stories

Tonight was legendary. And mortifying. And hilarious. And just horribly, horribly embarassing.

My friend and I went to go see The Lion King at a popular movie theater. Why? Because The Lion King is pretty much the epitome of all that is epic in this world. For the record, the film was incredible. Seeing it in theaters was absolutely unreal - you could see the tiniest details that were otherwise unnoticeable, and the animation was simply stunning. But enough of that. Surprisingly enough, the movie was NOT the source of this blog post.

Here we go.

So we parked on the second story of the parking structure at about 7:20, right as the sun was setting. We were surprised at how empty the lot seemed, and as we left the car we noticed four BEAUTIFUL Camaros parked right next to each other a few stalls over. Our first instinct? To take pictures with the Camaros for the blog. No one was around, and the owners of the cars were nowhere in sight.

The result:

Aren't they pretty?

Future Charlie's Angel

You know you want me.

No, those are in no way the only pictures we took. We were there for close to ten minutes.

So we're laughing and messing around, and we decide to leave the cars alone and go get food or some such nonsense. And as we pass the second Camaro (the red one I'm posing by).... someone revs the engine.

We bolted.

Apparently whoever had been sitting in the car hadn't bothered to alert us to his presence before we made complete fools of ourselves.

Funny story, right?

Oh, you thought it was over. How cute. I wish the story ended there, but, alas, it doesn't.

Where did I leave off? Oh yes, we bolted. We were almost to the stairs (still laughing and mortified and, given our complexions, blushing like crazy, I'm sure) when a group of eight or nine adults ascended into the lot. We tried to compose ourselves so as not to draw unnecessary attention, but as we passed the group one of the guys looks at us and says, "So, you didn't touch the cars, did you?"

Oh yes. The driver of the red Camaro had alerted his buddies to our shenanigans. And of course, we ran into them.

We bolted. Again.

After we caught our breath (we aren't the running types, normally), we looked at each other to make sure that had really happened. We then decided collectively that this was the story to end all stories, but for then we were horribly mortified. What had started as a seemingly innocent attempt to bring some of our awkward nerd-dom to the blog world ended up being a horribly embarassing story to bring to the blog world.

After the fact, I wanted to hole up in a corner and die, plainly, but it was decided that we just needed to tell SOMEONE this story so that this could be one of those "Hey, remember that time when we were creeped on by the driver of the Camaro we were taking pictures in front of and it was totally hilarious?" instead of "Hey, remember that time we made complete idiots of ourselves and wanted to die because we were totally mortified?" So, we told the cashier at the ice cream place. And the cashier at Rubio's. And the guy from Nielson movie ratings after the movie. Slowly, we began to accept that the story was in fact hilarious and worth telling. However, chances are if you bring this up in front of us, we will blush. And get flustered. And want to crawl into a hole and die.

But tonight was legend-wait for it-dary.