Teh Squeaky Wheel
Sunday salutations from Happy Larryville, GN!
Re me shopping for bras -- whether for LambiePieK or myself -- at Walmart: I think not. And I doubt any of the Waddlbutts, Land Whales or Self-Driving Trichinosis Factories (scooter riders) would be amused by me wearing a bra like Mickey Mouse ears while walk-racing my shopping cart through teh grocery section.
But I could be wrong; I frequently am. Most often on purpose. 😉
My darling Fatwa, you are talented and brilliant and quite the conversation piece. That said, I have to tell you that most people do not select their bras by fitting them to their head. No wonder yours never fit exactly right!
I’ll shop for my own bra, thanks so much for thinking of me though, and if you like I’ll show you how to properly* fit one before purchasing.
*In the end, and this is a bra industry secret, it’s all about the knees.
…quite the conversation piece.
“This is my vintage husband; they don’t make ’em like that anymore. Notice the exquisitely wrought ear hairs.”
You could place him on the end table, right next to the capodimonte lamp.
A blessed Sabbath, Gerbil Nation!
Good morning, Brenda and Fatwa!
Thanks to Fatwa, I now have this mental picture of the Arbuckle household:
Talk about yer temptation: “Dat’s a nice Capodimonte lamp ya got dere; it’d be a real shame if somet’in was t’ happen to it.”
Paddy’s “mental image” may have caused some mirth. 😉
Paddy’s mental image caused much mirth!
A little holiday FYI:
I myself made a trip to Wal-Mart this morning, but apparently timed it well enough that all aisle-obstructing patrons had left the store.
It was at the grocery store that I had an incident.
I was tooling along the front main aisle, where I had to adjust my trajectory to avoid a harried mom yelling at her three (maybe four) amped-up kids. The oldest son seemed to be the object of her ire as I was pulling even; at which point she cuffed him in the ear and his head came into contact with my cart.
She never spared me a glance. Neither did the kid for that matter, but as he’s holding his face and beginning to cry, she says to him, “See, that’s what you get!”
Obviously, he’ll live -- may have a bit of a shiner…
I … don’t know if I could, would, or should have said something. Actually, I walked away feeling a little embarrassed and shocked at having gotten caught in the middle. At her level of ire, yeah, she looked like she could take me.
And she was about my size.
I think I prefer my mom’s old method. Yank me out by my arm and stuff me in the old Vista Cruiser ’til she was done shopping.