I can only find the underwear I want at stores that cater to gay men. If you've ever been to one of these stores, you know that they blast house music-- it's like Abercrombie, only gayer.
Anyway, Mads, my Norwegian companion, and I were at one of these places so I could pick up some undergarments. A remix of Fergie's "Big Girls Don't Cry" was playing above us.
And I know that I'll miss you like a child misses it's blanket...
"Ooh, Ginch Gonch!"
"I have something I have to tell you," Mads said.
"What? I can't hear you!"
He took me into the dressing room.
"I have something I have to tell you."
"Um, okay...?"
"I've been told by my doctors that I have to stop drinking."
"What? How can this be?"
"Oh, it be all right."
He looked deflated. I needed to cheer him up, but Merlin Olson wasn't around with a Pick-Me-Up Bouquet, so I went with the next best thing.
"What do you say we blow this pop stand and go home and I'll make you some of those Chilean-style hot dogs you like so much?"
"But I thought we were out of mayonnaise and avocados."
"I just got some at the store yesterday."
There was a loud knock at the door.
"Hey boys, the hotel's down the street. Get a freakin' room."
I looked at Mads, and he knew what I was thinking. Before we left the store, we took the clerk and hung him on the coat hook in the fitting room by his underwear.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment