The Tourist
member
Ya' know, rub it in, guys.
Today I took my wife to Borders Book Store in Madison. When I do, I get the reward of crossing the street to go to East Towne Mall and getting an Arby's.
Hey, when you're retired, that's a big deal. We don't have an Arby's in my little town.
I'm chewin' and I'm dunkin' into the sauce, and I'm having a about as much fun as I'm going to have fully clothed without a motorcycle, and my wife starts laughing. I don't mean giggling, I mean open mouthed laughter. The mother at the next table of the food court even looked over at her.
I've broken my neck, so doing a 180 turn is something I try to avoid, but I had to look.
Sure enough, it was my two little buddies, the rolly-polly little him and her duo of the Mall Security, and their antique walkie-talkies and Smokey the Bear hats.
I turn forward, and face my wife. She wipes her chin and smirks, "Too bad the fountain isn't working..."
I have promised her that I will toss any snippy mall ninja into the fountain while I await arrest by the real police. There's "something" about these little butterballs that just enfuriates me.
My wife got to go to Borders, she didn't have to cook, and now she wanted a floor show. This is the woman who claims to love me.
This is also the woman who will yell to the arresting officer, "Cavity search that biker, he's buttin' a gun...!"
I say this because of the unnatural way she enjoyed Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie in "Mr. and Mrs. Smith."
Today I took my wife to Borders Book Store in Madison. When I do, I get the reward of crossing the street to go to East Towne Mall and getting an Arby's.
Hey, when you're retired, that's a big deal. We don't have an Arby's in my little town.
I'm chewin' and I'm dunkin' into the sauce, and I'm having a about as much fun as I'm going to have fully clothed without a motorcycle, and my wife starts laughing. I don't mean giggling, I mean open mouthed laughter. The mother at the next table of the food court even looked over at her.
I've broken my neck, so doing a 180 turn is something I try to avoid, but I had to look.
Sure enough, it was my two little buddies, the rolly-polly little him and her duo of the Mall Security, and their antique walkie-talkies and Smokey the Bear hats.
I turn forward, and face my wife. She wipes her chin and smirks, "Too bad the fountain isn't working..."
I have promised her that I will toss any snippy mall ninja into the fountain while I await arrest by the real police. There's "something" about these little butterballs that just enfuriates me.
My wife got to go to Borders, she didn't have to cook, and now she wanted a floor show. This is the woman who claims to love me.
This is also the woman who will yell to the arresting officer, "Cavity search that biker, he's buttin' a gun...!"
I say this because of the unnatural way she enjoyed Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie in "Mr. and Mrs. Smith."