My good friend and fellow high school french class tardy queen called this afternoon, and I just feel obligated to share our buffoonery...
While I was discussing my angst towards my ex-coworker who was obviously experiencing permanent psychological damage from not being able to find over-rated and over-priced jeans long enough for her luscious obviously super-model quality legs... Kristin's response was:
"Shouldn't she be more concerned with her fat ass?"
"It's not the jean's fault they don't fit!"
Followed by, her attempt to tell me that she discovered she had a red gas cap, (which she found fascinating), on her truck. She lives in Oregon where all gas stations pump for you. At a loss for the correct term for the cap... and a desire to get to the point
She says, "So, anyway, this guy's behind me pumping my gas hole..."
Priceless, I say. Priceless. I literally almost peed my pants.
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