Because my audience was TOTALLY unappreciative of my willing self-mockery:
Scene: We pull up to a stoplight. It’s hot. It’s sunny, my window is down. I have my shades on and my Pirate tattoo blazin’ on my bicep. To my right is a young fellow on a motorcycle with his “Lower Back” tattoo peeking out.
I catch his eye, flex my arm and say just before we pull away, “I have a tattoo, too.”
Monday, September 3, 2007
Labor Day Dinner Conversation
[Paraphrased because I remember less than your Great Aunt Betty]
The Man: “I think these ‘steaks’ are ground beef.”
Me: “Like hamburgers?”
TM: “Yeah!”
Me to Kristina: “Was your steak like hamburger?”
Kristina: “Yeah, kind of. It was really crumbly, but had, like, fat wrapped around it.”
Me: “That was supposed to be bacon.”
What can I say, they love good deals in that house!
The Man: “I think these ‘steaks’ are ground beef.”
Me: “Like hamburgers?”
TM: “Yeah!”
Me to Kristina: “Was your steak like hamburger?”
Kristina: “Yeah, kind of. It was really crumbly, but had, like, fat wrapped around it.”
Me: “That was supposed to be bacon.”
What can I say, they love good deals in that house!
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