We went to explore Des Moines last Saturday before going to Dixie Longate’s Tupperware party. Since we like to blend in and act like the locals everywhere we go Fuzzy decided to dress in a manner that would be appropriate to a Farmers market we were heading out to enjoy. His “I shaved my balls for this?” T-shirt is always a good choice. When we get invited to have Christmas dinner with the Obama’s I’ll be sporting a smart Banana Republic wool V-neck. Fuzz will shake Mrs. Obama’s hand as she stops to read: I SHAVED MY BALLS FOR THIS?
I didn’t marry for gravitas. The hotel was hosting a quilter’s conference last weekend. 100 chubby, Midwestern, Christian white women. I walked through the dining room with only breakfast on my mind. The six of us soon grabbed a table in the middle and I started to shovel hash into my pie hole. I looked up just enough to notice that Michael had just a petite plate of fruit. Since we’re all a bunch of bears it was easy to spot the open table surface in front of Michael were a plate of bacon should have been. As we finished up, a little grey haired woman tiptoed over to our table and slips a quilter’s advertisement card next to Fuzzy. Fuzzy says “how nice, thank you.” And starts to read, then turns it over to read what the table of Christians had written on the back-side.
Next time try Nair.